


Let The Walls Come Down

by riots



Series: Killjoys [2]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Families of Choice, Gangs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-14
Updated: 2014-10-14
Packaged: 2018-02-21 03:20:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2452835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riots/pseuds/riots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kris and the rest of XO have been content to scrape out their existence in the zones outside the city. Thing is, someone else isn't so happy to let them be, and Kris and his boys would never go down without a fight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let The Walls Come Down

Kris hates doing this. He really does. It's too late, hours past curfew, and the streets are empty and dark. The drag of his heavy boots against cracked pavement is noisier than he'd like, makes him wince more than the throb of his ribs. If Minseok knew he was out at this hour, on his own, he'd have his head. It's better this way. No need to worry anyone, risk anyone else.

He moves quickly, just this side of a run. He has a hand pressed to his belly, trying to ignore the wet heat he can feel seeping out between his fingers. It aches more than burns now, and he can't tell if that's better or worse. Just a few more blocks. He's almost there. The car would've been faster, he knows, but more conspicuous, noisier. Attracts more attention, and a bunch of Dracs swooping in is the absolute last thing he needs.

By the time he ducks into the right doorway, Kris is feeling a little lightheaded. A stubborn part of him insists it's from the exercise, maybe the aftereffect of the adrenaline after a long night, and he hopes that's truth and not delusion. He keys the buzzer at the door, waits a few seconds, then hits the button three times in rapid succession. There's no reply on the other end, but the door clicks and swings open, and he ducks inside.

It's familiar now, the dimly lit, dingy staircase that winds down into the basement. It's narrow, and the clatter of Kris' boots echo against the dirty walls, but at least here, he doesn't worry. He knocks open the door at the bottom of the stairs and feels around on the wall until his fingers hit the light switch.

Fluorescent lights hum to life and Kris grimaces at the twinge it sets off behind his eyes. It's not a big room, but it's neat, well organized. He thinks that this building was once a school, but the basement has been turned into a makeshift clinic. There's a cot, even an old examination chair, and although the leather is cracked and worn, it's still serviceable. The beat up sink is polished and gleaming, and there are medical tools carefully arranged on the counter.

They're not what he's looking for. Kris heads for the cupboards, rifling through the shelves until he finds what he needs. The bandages are up high and even if he is tall, stretching up like that pulls at the wound in his side, makes him hiss through his teeth. It's nothing he can't handle, though, and he climbs onto the battered cot, throwing aside his jacket and raising his shirt to assess the damage.

It looks messy, but Kris is almost certain he's had worse. He unwinds some of the bandages and is about to do his best to patch himself up when slender fingers wrap around his wrist. “You know,” Joonmyun says. “You could just wait for the professional to get down here instead of bleeding all over the place.”

Kris regrets waking him up as soon as he sees the dark circles beneath Joonmyun's eyes. He knows that Joonmyun always works hard at the clinic, but this is worse than he's ever seen him. Still, he bites his tongue. “I guess I'm impatient,” he says.

Joonmyun rolls his eyes. “Stubborn, more like,” he tells Kris. He plucks the bandages from Kris' hands and pushes him down against the cot. For someone who is half Kris' size and small-boned, he's always been surprisingly strong. “Let me check you out.”

Rolled onto his side, Kris stares at the wall as Joonmyun snaps on a pair of rubber gloves and gently cleans the wound on Kris' ribs. His hands still every time Kris inhales sharply, but he never suggests a painkiller – long experience has taught him that there will only be one response to that subject. No pills. Not ever. “It's deep, but it's neat,” Joonmyun tells him softly, pressing a compress over it to slow the bleeding. “And it missed all your vitals. I'll have to stitch you up.”

“Whatever you say, doc.” There aren't a lot of people that Kris trusts, and fewer still that still live within the boundaries of Battery City, but Joonmyun has always been one of them. What he does for Kris and his crew, it's not strictly legal. In fact, Kris is pretty certain that if Joonmyun ever got caught, he'd probably do one of Better Living Industries' patented disappearing acts. He risks a lot for them, and for that, Kris is grateful.

“Nurse,” Joonmyun corrects him absently. He's deft with a needle, each stitch quick and precise. Of course, Kris supposes, that might have something to do with the number of nights that he's crawled down here so that Joonmyun can fix him up.

They're silent as Joonmyun finishes up, taping the bandages securely against Kris' ribs. “I'd tell you to take it easy so that you don't tear them,” Joonmyun says. “But, well. We both know that'd be wasted on you.”

Kris takes his time pushing himself back up to a sitting position and he laughs. “Yeah, thanks.” The ache has subsided to a dull, tolerable kind of throb, and he thinks it won't be too hard to get back to the car, back to base. He pulls his shirt back down, but it's torn and still sticky with blood, stained in that way that Kris knows would be impossible to get out, even if he knew how to do that sort of thing. With a heavy sigh, he tugs it over his head and tosses it into a nearby garbage. “Burn that, will you?”

Leaning back against the counter, Joonmyun crosses his arms over his chest. Under this lighting, the dark circles under his eyes look like bruises against his pale skin. “Sir, yessir,” he says dryly. He tips his head. “What are you doing out here all by yourself, anyway? I thought you weren't supposed to go anywhere without supervision.”

“Shut up,” Kris laughs, dragging a hand through his hair. He can feel Joonmyun's eyes on his bare shoulders and he clears his throat uncomfortably. “You make me sound like a lost puppy.” He shrugs, feeling the way his stitches pull and twinge. “I didn't wanna worry anyone, is all. Better this way.”

There's a knowing glint in Joonmyun's eyes. “Zitao,” he says. “You didn't want to worry Zitao.” It's not a question. Kris glances at him. When did he become so familiar with all of them? He pulls at the loose thread on the knee of his jeans. That's dangerous.

He nods. “Kid's got enough to worry about,” he says. He looks Joonmyun over pointedly, taking in the weary slope of his shoulders and the lines around his eyes. “I could say the same about you. When's the last time you got any sleep?”

Joonmyun pauses, taken aback. “Right up until you rang my doorbell,” he replies, and Kris scratches the back of his neck. Point.

“Don't dodge,” Kris tells him, and Joonmyun shrugs. “You look like hell.”

Joonmyun's mouth twists. “Long days,” he admits. “That's the job.”

He doesn't offer anything else, and Kris isn't sure how to ask, either. He's spent a lot of time bleeding on Joonmyun, but that's not really the basis of any friendship. He doesn't want to overstep his bounds. The exhaustion written in every line of Joonmyun's face is worrisome, though.

“Hold on,” Joonmyun says, and he disappears out of the clinic and up the stairs. Kris takes a second to press gentle fingers against the bandage at his ribs. Pristine work, as always. If it didn't heal clean, it'd be his own fault.

He looks up as Joonmyun clatters down the stairs again, hands full. “Here.” He tosses a shirt at Kris, waving a hand when Kris raises an eyebrow. “No, I don't expect you to squeeze into one of mine. It's Chanyeol's.” It fits well, but the tacky cartoon print makes Kris pull at the hem and snort. He's rewarded with a punch to the shoulder. “Shut up,” Joonmyun tells him, eyebrows raised. “You are not nearly as stylish as you think you are.”

“Really,” Kris deadpans, taking in the ugly threadbare sweater that hangs off Joonmyun's shoulders. “You're one to talk.”

Joonmyun scowls. “It's comfortable,” he says. He swings the contents of his other hand, a bag, into Kris' lap, and Kris lets out a surprised oof. It's heavy. When he glances inside, it's full of food. Perishable stuff, the kind of pricey food you can't get out in the Zones. Even here in the city, it's not cheap.

“Whoa.” Kris looks up at Joonmyun. “I can't take this. It's too much.” Even as he speaks, his fingers curl around the strap of the bag. It's tempting, definitely. They've had nothing but canned food for weeks, and he's getting sick of watching Zitao's shoulders droop every time he realizes it. It'd be nice to eat something that didn't look like dog food.

“Take it,” Joonmyun insists, avoiding Kris' eyes. He colours faintly. “I can afford it, and you look skinny.”

There's no way Joonmyun could've known Kris would be here tonight, which meant that either he'd squirrelled this away for the next time he snuck in, or he'd just grabbed whatever he could find in his cupboards for them. Either way, Kris now has a lapful of real food and his stomach lurches. “You don't have to do this,” Kris says.

Joonmyun nods, eyes flicking up to meet Kris' gaze. “I know,” he says, and his voice is firm. “I'm just helping you look after your boys.”

He doesn't know the full extent of what Kris and the rest of XO do, or how many of them there are, and up until now, Kris has preferred it that way. The less Joonmyun knows, the less danger he's in. And now, here Joonmyun is, doing his best to get himself into trouble. Kris isn't sure what to do with him. “Thanks,” Kris says, finally. He grabs his jacket and gets ready to leave. He's not sure what makes him pause at the doorway. “Look after yourself, yeah?”

The smile that breaks across Joonmyun's face is warm and blinding. “You too,” he says.

As Kris tears out of the city again, car racing across flat, cracked pavement, he glances at the bag in the passenger seat. He thinks about how excited they'll be, Sehun and Jongin squabbling over the cans of fizz, but it's the thought of who gave it to them that pulls the corners of Kris' mouth up.

 

-

 

Kris doesn't roll out of bed until well after noon, and then it's only because of the nagging hunger growling in his belly. He hauls himself upright, hissing as the wound in his side reminds him of its presence. He needs to learn to be careful. It still looks nice and clean, though.

A knock on the door frame sounds as he's pulling his shirt over his head, and Kris closes his eyes. The bandages on his ribs are clearly visible. Busted. “Huh,” Minseok says. He raises his eyebrows, and Kris catches sight of the purple bruise that stands out starkly across his jaw. “'Not that bad', he says. 'Just a scratch'.” It takes him a second, and then his eyes widen. “You went to see Joonmyun. Alone.”

Kris stands. “It's done now. I'm all fixed up. He gave me some food for you guys, so it's all done with.” Minseok's eyebrows climb higher. “Don't,” Kris says. “Please.”

Years of friendship and experience lead Minseok to run his tongue across his teeth and shrug a shoulder. “Alright,” he says. His eyes linger on Kris' side. “Is it...”

There are a half dozen things implied in those words. _Is it bad? Painful? Gonna hold you back?_ Kris shakes his head. “Nah. C'mon. I'm starved. Yixing make anything for breakfast?”

As he passes Minseok in the doorway, he gets a nudge to his ribs. He gasps as pain skitters up his side, and turns to glare at Minseok. All he gets in return is an unrepentant stare. “Just testing,” he says. Kris figures he probably deserved it. Even so, he narrows his eyes at Minseok.

Breakfast is meagre, but Kris is used to that by now. He gulps down the food that Yixing had left out for him, and it fills him up, at least. Minseok slides into the seat across from him, quickly followed by Jongdae. “The kids are getting antsy, you know,” Minseok says. He's got a chipped mug of coffee in front him. Kris frowns at it. Where's his coffee? He's pretty sure he needs it more. “Even Sehun is itching to quit laying around.”

Screw it. Kris swipes Minseok's coffee and ignores the dark look he gets in return. “Yeah, it's been a while,” he says. The coffee is cheap, hot, and black, but it feels good. It shakes away the cobwebs and ache in his head. “I thought that was the whole point of staying low, though.”

Jongdae kicks his feet up on the table, and it's a near thing that he doesn't knock the coffee into Kris' lap. “They're mad cause you guys got to brawl last night and they missed it.” Jongdae looks worn but well rested, as usual, and Kris is a little jealous of that. Not a lot, though, there's a lot of pressure riding on Jongdae's shoulders. The Doorman may get to stay home, but he's XO's lifeline. Without him, they're blind. “Throw the kids a bone.”

“They're gonna break something soon, whether or not you like it,” Minseok points out. He snatches the mug away from Kris again and drains it, looking pleased.

Kris hums in agreement. “Jongdae, give the kids a call. Tell 'em to hit that Drac post out in Zone Four.” It's a tiny little outpost they'd spotted a few weeks ago, a converted office building with a bunch of Dracs staffing to keep an eye on zonerunner movement. So far, XO and the rest of the gangs have left them alone. It's easier to dodge what you already know is there.

Still, they are the enemy. Maybe it's about time XO let them know they're not welcome around here. “Yeah, boss,” Jongdae nods, climbing over Minseok's lap to get at his radio equipment. As Kris scrapes the last of the rice out of his bowl, he hears Jongdae hailing Jongin and Sehun, out in Five, and he smiles. That oughta keep them occupied.

He gets to his feet slowly, mindful of the throb in his side, and drops his bowl in the sink. “Hey,” Minseok says suddenly. “Where'd that come from?” He points at Kris' chest.

Kris glances down and realizes for the first time since he woke up that he still has the shirt that Joonmyun gave him. He pulls at the frayed hem and shrugs, smiling to himself.

 

-

 

“Meat,” Jongin crows as he and Sehun plow through the door. They jostle for space at Yixing's elbow, and Kris watches with amusement as Yixing squawks and tries to fend them off. “Where did you get _meat_?” Sehun uses his long arms to his advantage, wiggling over Yixing's guard to steal a mouthful. He gets his comeuppance when he throws the bite of meat in his mouth and promptly yelps and fans his mouth, looking mournful. Yixing's laughter is sharp and loud.

“A present from nurse Joonmyun,” Kris says, nonchalant, and across the table, Zitao's eyes widen. “Anyway, you might as well dig in. Won't last.”

They really don't need to be told twice. The room is filled with the clatter of chairs being dragged across worn linoleum and happy laughter and Kris just takes a second to take it in.

Living in the Zones, it ain't easy. It's been a while since he's seen the kids so relaxed. On Kris' right, Sehun throws himself down in a chair and drags Jongin down with him, loudly complaining when Lu Han suggests the two of them cook the meat. Next to Jongin, Zitao snickers through a mouthful and hooks his arm around Jongin's neck, pulling him in to whisper something in his ear. At the end of the table, Minseok is listening to some long, involved story Jongdae's telling, chin propped up in one hand. Yixing and Lu Han share the bench like they always do, elbow to elbow as Yixing slides a can of Fizz in front of Kris. “Drink up, duizhang,” he says. “There's enough for you too.”

It feels like indulgence, but Kris picks the can up anyway. He's got no excuses this time, Zitao has his own. It's not cold, but the carbonation and sugar are enough of a rush on their own. Next to him, Yixing watches him, a barely suppressed grin on his face. “You look like a kid, getting to eat your dessert before dinner.”

Kris points a finger at him, eyebrows raised. “No respect,” he sighs. Yixing laughs, showing a flash of dimple as he curls his fingers around Kris' elbow in a sort of apology.

It's funny, how things quiet as everyone gets down to eating. Kris can't remember the last time they had a spread like this, and Yixing has put the food Joonmyun gave them to good use. Sehun and Jongin squabble over a piece of meat, and when Jongin gets in a good jab with his chopsticks, Kris catches sight of the cut across Sehun's cheekbone. He's stuck a couple of bandaids over it, but it looks nasty.

“Got you good, huh?” Kris says, reaching out to grab Sehun's chin and tip his face towards him. Sehun rolls his eyes and grumbles, but he lets Kris tilt his head this way and that, examining him. “Slipping, maknae. Gotta be faster than that, gonna get yourself hurt.”

Sehun scowls, and next to him, Jongin shakes his head. “There was a Scarecrow,” Jongin says through a mouthful. When he sees Kris' disapproving stare he quickly swallows and wrinkles his nose, muttering an apology for trying to speak while he's eating.

“A Scarecrow?” Minseok asks. He glances at Kris. They both understand the implications. That BL/IND outpost had been a little shithole in what used to be a suburb at the inside edge of Zone Four. Should've been the kind of place where a couple of dweebs in masks kept an eye on zonerunner activity. No place for anybody important.

“She was good,” Sehun agrees. “If it weren't for me, who knows what would've happened to Jongin.”

Kris ruffles Sehun's hair and turns back to his dinner. “I had her!” Jongin disagrees hotly. “Shut up.” His ears are red but he falls quiet when Zitao curls a hand around the back of his neck.

A Scarecrow spells trouble, though. Jongin and Sehun can easily take a bunch of Dracs, but there's no way Kris would've sent them after a Scarecrow on their own. “Get Zitao to look you over after dinner, alright?” Kris says. “And get some ice on that eye.”

“What's a Scarecrow doing all the way out here?” Lu Han asks quietly.

“Maybe Jongdae can put out a call?” Minseok suggests. His thumb brushes idly across the bruise on his jaw, and he knows they're both thinking the same thing. Nothing about this bodes well.

They don't voice it, though. Better not to ruin tonight. He glances at Zitao, reaching around Jongin to pull Sehun's hair, and he nods. “That's a plan. Jump on the radio first thing tomorrow, see if anyone's heard anything, alright?”

Jongdae salutes him with his chopsticks. “Aye aye, cap'n.”

As Sehun and Jongin start regaling the table with their story about their raid today, Kris stares thoughtfully down at his bowl. He's got a bad feeling about this. At the other end of the table, Minseok's mouth twists a little, and Kris knows he's not the only one.

 

-

 

“What've you got for me?” Kris asks, one big hand on Jongdae's shoulder as he bends towards the radio.

Jongdae tips the microphone towards him and plays with the dials on the radio. “Raised Motor Baby out on Five. She says she might have something.” The radio a battered mess of electronics, taking up most of a desk, a Frankenstein cobbled together from parts Jongdae has scavenged off of cars and CB radios. Still, with Jongdae to look after it, it's held up pretty well. It's also got that added bonus of being analog. This day and age, if you wanna survive, you avoid tech. Radios are perfect. You can't hack 'em and they don't leave records, digital footprints. Ideal.

Kris smiles as he flicks on the mic. “Hey, man,” he says. “What's happening?”

Amber's laughter is warm even with the crackle of static. “Hey, bro,” she says. “Been a while, huh? I know those kids keep you busy, but you oughta swing by. Got something you might wanna hear.”

He has to swallow back his unease at that. Amber isn't cautious without reason, and if she thinks she can't relay what she's heard over the radio, that makes him nervous. That means someone listening in. That means danger, means things are gonna get ugly. “You sure you're not just trying to con me back into the ring?”

She scoffs. “You kidding me? The one race you won was sheer luck, don't make me laugh.”

“You're real rude, you know that?” Next to him, Jongdae snorts softly and raises his eyes meaningfully. “Alright, when's good? You racing tonight?”

“Nah, but an old friend is. Drop by, yeah?” There's a quick pause, then: “And bring your right-hand man, too.”

That pulls the smile back to Kris' face. It has been too long. He's been spending a lot of time running a circuit between their homebase way out in Six, the outposts in Four, and Joonmyun's clinic, just at the edge of the city. It's been a while since he did anything other than run food and pick fights. Might be nice. “Yeah, I can manage that.”

“Stay frosty, bro.”

The line clicks off and Jongdae's chair creaks as he leans back. “Roadtrip?” he suggests.

Amber runs the races at night, so they've got a few hours. “Sounds like,” he agrees. “Where's Minseok and Zitao?”

“They went to scout the outpost the kids hit. Call 'em in?”

Kris thinks it over for a second. He's standing barefoot in the kitchen, wearing the same clothes he was wearing yesterday, and he shakes his head. “Nah, but tell 'em to make it quick. I'm gonna go take a shower.”

“Yeah, boss.” Kris squeezes Jongdae's shoulder and heads to the bathroom. He makes a mental note to get Joonmyun's shirt as clean as he can before he heads back his way. Unfortunately, he thinks that'll be sooner rather than later.

It's getting dark by the time that Minseok and Zitao return, and Kris is clean and dressed, taking stock of their supplies. “Crawling with Dracs,” Zitao announces, pulling a stool up next to Kris before carefully pulling off his gloves. “Surprise, surprise.” He rests his chin on Kris' shoulder, and he smells like smoke. Kris smiles. He knew they wouldn't let something as little as a couple Draculoids keep them from investigating. There's fresh bandages across Zitao's palm, neat and tight, and Kris pushes his notes away to look them over. “'S fine,” Zitao mumbles.

“Nothing, though,” Minseok says. He's covered in ash. “Taozi searched the whole place. Kids did a good job.” He makes his way to the sink and grabs a rag, doing his best to clean the dirt off his face.

“I'm fine,” Zitao whispers again, and Kris lets his hand drop. He's right, Kris is sure. Zitao has always been handy with first-aid. It's just that Kris worries about Zitao, a habit he's never been able to shake. Part of him still sees him as that skinny kid that Kris found living out of a burned out building, picking pockets and living on little more than garbage, and sometimes he gets a little bit protective.

Minseok grimaces down at the now-blackened and damp rag in his hands. “So what'd you call us in for? Hear something?”

“About time we pay Amber a visit, huh?” The interested light that sparks in Minseok's eyes makes him snort and press his lips together.

He gets a dirty cloth to the ear for that. “Work or play?” Minseok asks, like he hadn't just assaulted Kris.

“Both.” Kris nudges Zitao until he slides away, and he stands. The mirror in the hall is dirty and cracked but it does the job. Maybe the smudge he sees on his face is mostly in his head but he frowns and carefully cleans it away. No respect from these punks.

“Gonna change.” Minseok tugs off his jacket and then glances up, finding both Kris and Zitao looking at him. “What? I'm covered in shit.”

Zitao's face breaks into a wide, sharp smile. “Sure,” he says, his smile broadening when he meets Kris' eyes.

“I'm not listening to you,” Minseok calls as he heads into the back.

 

-

 

The drive out to Voltage is longer than Kris remembers. Zitao dozes in the front seat, his injured hand cradled neatly in his lap, and Minseok is mostly silent.

The noise when they get there, though, it's enormous. Kris doesn't remember the races being such an event before. Amber has always known how to throw a party, collecting friends wherever she goes, but this is to a whole new level. Floodlights make the track bright as day, even in the setting sun, and the number of people here is huge. This is the sum of the Zones: noisy, ugly, but every one of them has the same hungry eyes. “Jesus,” Kris says as he climbs out of the car, looking out at the crush of people and listening to the roar of engines.

It's bold, this display of defiance. It's noisy and colourful and fun, and Kris can't decide whether or not to be impressed. “Motor Baby did good for herself,” Minseok says. Kris can't help but agree. This is one hell of an affair.

Weaving through the crowd, Kris uses his height and shoulders to his advantage. Back when this had just been a dirt track and a bunch of friends sitting around drinking stolen beer, Amber had always hung around the finish line, and he figures that's a good place to start. Minseok follows him, and Zitao brings up the rear, and Kris is again reminded of how he always feels most secure when the two of them have his back.

They make it to the edge of the track before the press of people becomes too tight to make their way through it. Kris really doesn't want to start a fight right now, they need to be unobtrusive. Blend in. He doesn't doubt the three of them could handle most of what these drunk, skinny zonerats could throw at them, but you don't survive in the Zones without learning how to scrap. It wouldn't be easy, and it wouldn't be fun. He wishes, not for the first time, that Amber would learn how to carry a radio on her.

“Kris!” He cranes his neck to look over the crowd and catches sight of someone waving. They jump, and Kris breaks into a smile. Henry's amiable grin is unmistakeable, even if he hasn't seen it in a while.

It's easier to push when Kris at least knows where they're trying to be. With Minseok's hand pressed against the small of his back, he physically forces his way to Henry and pulls him into a fast and tight hug. “Hey, big guy,” Henry laughs, voice muffled by Kris' shoulder. “Been a long time.”

“Too long,” Kris says to the top of Henry's head, and he means it. So this was who Amber had meant when she'd mentioned an old friend. He hadn't anticipated seeing Henry again, or the painful clench of his chest that came with him. “What are you doing back here? I thought you went up north to find your family.”

The sour twist of Henry's mouth as he pulls away is enough to answer that question. “Figured I was better off down here,” he says finally. He shrugs a shoulder, looking up at Kris', and it makes Kris ache in sympathy. It's a type of loss he's intimately familiar with, and he wishes Henry didn't have to learn it too.

“It's okay,” Zitao tells Henry, offering him a hesitant smile. “I'm glad you're back.” Kris likes the way that Zitao's hopeful eyes wipe away some of the new weariness that's found a home on Henry's face. They're still crowded together, even if they have moved further away from the track again, and it only takes Henry holding open his arms before Zitao hugs him close.

“Come on,” Henry says finally, and he gestures towards an odd set of bleachers by the finish line. “She's been waiting for you.”

It's with only the slightest edge of irritation that Kris notices the ease with which Henry leads them through the crowd. He's slight, unassuming, with a round and pleasant face, and somehow the people just part in front of him. He's been back for longer than Kris had thought. It makes Kris wonder just how much he's been missing out on.

Amber welcomes them with a whoop and a laugh, pounding on Kris' back with delight. “Took you long enough,” she tells him, pushing a beer into his hand. He surreptitiously passes it off to Minseok. Zitao's eyes follow the movement and it makes Kris laugh softly.

“Go ahead,” he tells him, and Zitao grabs his own, carefully prying off the cap with his good hand. He looks so excited. Beer is hard to come back around here, and Kris has always been a bit weak for making Zitao smile.

“What's up? You been hiding out in Six? Dummy,” Amber clicks her tongue. She's wearing her hair longer now, and dark. The blond is gone and instead, it's swept up into a short, loose ponytail. “Pretty disappointing, that it takes business to get you out here, bro.”

“Don't get salty,” Kris snorts.

It's even noisier here, the roar of the bikes as they race by making it harder to hear, but Amber seems completely at home. She punches him in the shoulder, grinning. “I see you brought your friends,” she says, looking past him to Minseok.

“As instructed,” Kris agrees. He slides around to sit on her far side, tugging Zitao with him. This leaves space for Minseok to sit next to her, and it's not lost on him. He throws Kris a sharp look, faintly embarrassed, but that doesn't mean he doesn't take it. “Looks like you took this party pro.” Henry grabs a seat at their feet, turning to talk to someone Kris recognizes only vaguely.

Kris doesn't mind that Amber's hand finds Minseok's knee unerringly, but he does mind that it means she's using the hand with the beer in it to gesture while she talks. He'd rather not smell like beer the whole ride home. “Wasn't hard, man. Not with stars like them. Check it out.”

She gestures out at the track, and for the first time, Kris pays attention to the show. The races are nothing new, Amber's been running races here for years, and Kris has been a witness to his share and even in a few. This is something else, though. There are only two bikes circling the track, painted in loud pinks and purples and yellows, and as he watches, one of the riders shifts her feet back and hauls the front wheel up. She takes one arm off the handlebars and holds it out like it's nothing, and even at this distance, he can see her long blonde hair and radiant smile. “Shit.” He gapes as she drops down again just in time to make the turn and the other rider swings around until she's sitting on the handlebars, facing backwards as she rides blind. “Is that Hyo and Yuri?” He remembers the pair of them, always reckless and fooling around with their bikes, but he doesn't remember anything like this.

“Got good, didn't they?” Amber's flush is half the beer in her hand, half pride. “You've been gone a while, bro, they've had time to practice.” It's pointed, but he deserves it, and he nods when he meets her eye. In front of them, Yuri kicks her bike up on its front wheel, making it nearly halfway through the track before she drops down again.

“Gonna scold me all night, or you gonna talk?” Kris raises his eyebrows.

Amber slings her arm around his shoulders, and Kris has to catch her wrist before he ends up with warm beer down his front. When he throws her a dark look, she just grins, serenely, and he knows she's doing it on purpose. _God_ he's missed her. “Don't be like that,” she says, knocking her beer bottle against his head. “You're the one that's been rude.”

“Now I remember why I haven't come down here in a while,” Kris says. She just hits him again.

“Impatient,” she sighs. “Alright. There's been noise that BL/IND is shifting their stock out of the city, for safety or something. The city's getting crowded and they need a place to stick their shit.” Condensation drips off the bottle in her hand to land on Kris' arm. “I guess they're trying to keep things quiet, so you killjoy dickbags don't pull anything.”

Her words send ice down Kris' spine, and suddenly, he wishes he hadn't given that beer to Minseok. Zonerunners live life on the fringe, and a lot of it is luck, and willpower and sheer stubbornness. Thing is, no small part of it is the fact that BL/IND doesn't pay them any attention. As long as the zonerunners stay out of the city, the company just doesn't care about them. They're an irritation, sure, but it's not worth it to hunt them down like rats and make 'em bend the knee. Or so the theory goes.

If what Amber's heard is true, it makes him uneasy. He doesn't like the idea of BL/IND in what they've come to think of as _their_ territory. It means eyes on them, it means danger. He doesn't like it.

“Whispers?” Kris asks.

Amber narrows her eyes. “Trustworthy. Would I feed you smoke?”

“No.” Kris shakes his head and does his best to avoid Zitao's eyes, wide and wary. He feels a surge of something he thought he'd swallowed down, something old and sharp and hot, something a lot like anger. He's so sick of BL/IND taking and taking and _taking_ from him.

His hands curl into fists against his thighs, and Amber catches it, squeezes her arm around him tighter. “I know,” she says quietly, forehead pressed against his head, mouth at his ear. “Wish it was better news.” Her grip on him echoes in his head, reminds him of six years ago, when he was thinner, smaller, so young. It doesn't sit right with him.

He straightens, pulls away a bit, and now Zitao's gaze on him is concerned. “Do you know where?”

Amber tugs her arm back, frowning. “Yeah, got a couple of suspicious looking places I heard about. Why?” Her lips tighten. “You've got your hero face on, Kris.”

“Hero face?” Zitao asks.

“Yeah,” she says, tipping her head back to drain the rest of her beer. “When he looks like he's gonna do something real stupid.” She hasn't broken away from Kris' gaze, her eyes a weird mix of irritation and sympathy. “Not that that isn't like, a state of being for him.”

The joke is a bit forced, but Kris appreciates what she's trying to do, anyway. “I resent that,” he says, and he smiles when they laugh in response. Amber shakes her head, nudging him with her knee.

They stay and watch a few races, but it's impossible for Kris to relax now. He's tense and uncomfortable, worry about Amber's words always right there, pushing at the back of his mind. It makes him shift in his seat, eyes fixed on the track but unseeing as he turns things over.

Kris gets to his feet as things are winding down, the crowds dispersing. “Better get back,” he says. “Gotta make sure the kids didn't burn the place down.”

“Can't Lu Han look after them?” Amber asks, looking up at him.

They all laugh a bit incredulously, but Minseok laughs loudest. “He'd probably cheer them on,” he says.

Amber stands long enough to pull Kris into a bone-crushing hug, arms tight around his middle. She's always been stronger than she looks, wiry and fierce, and Kris ignores the protest from his stitches to hug her back. “Quit being a fuckin' stranger,” she tells him.

“Promise,” he says, and her eyes soften, pleased.

He turns back to look at Minseok. “Staying?” he asks.

The colour in Minseok's cheeks isn't all from the alcohol. “Yeah,” he says. “I'm sure I can get a ride back in the morning.” Amber throws herself down next to him again, smirking a little, and Kris shakes his head.

“Stay safe,” he says, reaching out a hand. “See you at home.” Minseok grips it tightly and nods.

When they climb into the car to head home, Zitao looks over at Kris like he wants to say something, but ultimately stays silent. Kris isn't sure that's a good thing. He spends the ride back to base with his hands clenched tight around the wheel, telling himself over and over that there's time to worry tomorrow.

 

-

 

Kris doesn't sleep that night. When the sun rises, he rolls out of bed, careful not to wake Zitao, and heads into the kitchen. He spends the morning poring over a map of the Zones. Four storehouses, Amber had said. He marks each one out carefully. An old school, on the inner edge of One. A gas station on the far side of Three. A couple of apartment buildings in Four and Five. Finger lingering on the one marked in Five, Kris worries his bottom lip between his teeth. He doesn't like how close it is to Voltage.

And now, of course, the million dollar question. Now that he has the sites, what is he supposed to do with that information? Kris always tries to be practical, think of the safety of XO before anything else, but right now, his head is whispering _hit first, hit fast, hit hard_. It's tempting.

By the time Yixing wanders out from his room, Kris has the outline of a plan. He doesn't like it, but maybe, if they're lucky, it'll work. “What's this?” Yixing asks sleepily. “You're out of bed before all of us, did I wander into an alternate dimension?” He's wearing an oversized shirt that hangs off his thin frame, and Kris is pretty certain he stole it from him.

“Wouldn't put it past you,” Kris says.

Just for that, Yixing yawns and drags the back of Kris' shirt up and over his head. “Couldn't sleep?” Idly, he tugs the collar of his own shirt up on his shoulder and starts digging through the fridge to put together breakfast.

Frowning, Kris straightens his shirt and attempts to fix his hair. Thank god for Yixing. His uncanny ability to make decent meals out of the slop and canned food they can scrounge together has been invaluable. “Nah.” It's not worth lying to him. It'd only make him worry more. “Thought I'd get something done, instead.”

Kris can hear Yixing move around the kitchen behind him, the soft noise of cutlery against dishes. There's a pause, and then Yixing settles his weight against Kris' shoulder as he peers at the map. “I guess Amber had some info?”

“Nothing good,” Kris admits. “You're looking at Better Living's newest drug caches.”

Yixing inhales sharply and straightens. “They're coming all the way out here now?” Kris glances back, and he can see the sleep is gone from Yixing's eyes, replaced the same anxiety he's been dealing with since last night.

“Guess so.”

Reluctantly, Yixing turns back to the task at hand. “So you've been planning?” A porcelain bowl clatters against the counter, and Kris knows that Yixing's rattled. “Is it dangerous? Is it gonna suck?”

Kris' laughter is dry and rough. “Yeah,” he says. “More than likely.”

“Not like we've got much of a choice, though, huh,” Yixing says. He leans back against the counter, spoon in his long, delicate fingers. “Alright, duizhang.” He points at Kris with his spoon. “Let's poke the sleeping lion.” He sticks his chin out, and his smile wavers a bit, but there's a lot of faith in his eyes.

Kris isn't sure he deserves it, but he nods back anyway, mouth turned up in a smile.

 

-

 

They choose the gas station out on Three, because it's far enough away from their usual stomping grounds that hopefully they won't catch heat for it. Kris' plan is simple: follow Jongin and Sehun's lead with a straightforward raid. Kris and Zitao will take the front, draw attention, and Minseok will sneak in the back and look for drugs, documents, proof of anything that means that Amber is right. Yixing and Lu Han are back up, floating around in case something goes wrong.

And really, it's not much of a plan, Kris knows. It's cheap and dirty and with a bit of luck, it'll do the trick. Up until now, laying low has been a good modus operandi. If you don't jump around and wave your arms, then BL/IND won't swoop in and flatten you. But these outposts, that says something. It says that BL/IND won't be content with letting things slide anymore. In that case, Kris wants them to strike first. He wants to let them know that they won't go down without a fight.

Kris keys the radio from the passenger seat, and grabs the mouthpiece. “Doorman.”

The reply is fast. “Yeah, boss man?”

Next to him, Minseok shifts and pulls at the handkerchief tied around his neck. “Tell Shotgun Stunner and Kid Swindle to park it a few minutes away. Not close, but close enough to nab us if we need to bolt.”

“Gotcha.”

In the rearview mirror, Kris catches a glimpse of Zitao, striped black and white mask already pulled down over his eyes. “You ready, kid?”

Zitao tugs on his glove and fastens it at the wrist, rubbing his fingers across the leather at his knuckles, worn smooth. “Got this,” he says. Kris can't read Zitao's face behind the mask, but he can read the tense line of his shoulders, and the way he holds himself as straight as he can, head brushing against the car roof. It's not like Zitao is unaware of Kris' scrutiny, and he flashes him a thumbs up. “We've got this, duizhang,” he says again.

“Alright,” Kris cracks a tight smile. “We've got this.” He fits his mask down over his eyes. It's cheap and black, something you could find in any costume shop, but he's gotten fond of it.

“Doorman to Fiveclaw. Kid and Stunner in position.”

“Thanks. Going dark.”

“Good luck.”

There's a sense of finality as Kris slides the mouthpiece back into place. “How long?”

Minseok doesn't even need to check. “Maybe another couple of minutes.”

It's another hot day, the sun beating down relentlessly. It makes the inside of the Impala near intolerable. Sweat itches at Kris' hair line and down his spine, and he's not the only one. Minseok wipes futilely at his forehead. They have the windows rolled all the way down, but it's not helping much.

“Jesus,” Kris mutters. “I knew this place was way out, but I feel like we're miles from civilization.”

“We always are,” Minseok says dryly. “Even in the city.” He glances at Kris, his grin full of small teeth. This, Kris thinks, this is why Minseok drives on days like today. He's singularly unshakeable, the steadiest person Kris has ever met. Times like these, that's a pretty great quality to have. “There it is.”

The building is even more run down than Kris had expected. Boarded-up windows, the pumps a shattered wreck. It's small, though. If they're trying to keep this enterprise undercover, they can't have more than a handful of guys in there. “Alright, Zitao,” Kris says, and Minseok tugs his scarf up over his nose. “Fast and hard. Knock 'em out.” He nods to Minseok. “See you inside.”

It's always a bit funny, seeing Zitao out in the field like this. The two of them together, they can be pretty intimidating. Zitao's got a grace that Kris can't match, borne from years of wushu training, and with each step, he drums his fingers against the zap strapped to his thigh. He knows that if he were to look at Zitao right now, he'd see that his eyes are hard, his lips pressed into a tight line.

“Alright, Mean Mug?” Kris asks, not moving his lips.

From the corner of his eye, he can see the way that Zitao's mouth tugs into a tiny smile. “So ready.” After a quick nod from Kris, he pushes open the door.

Inside, it's dimly lit. Sunshine leaks through the spaces between the boards covering the windows, throwing splashes of light across the broken tile floor. Long ago, someone had cleared most of it out. The shelves are empty, the floor dirty, scuffed up, but in one cleared corner there's a table. Three figures in white look up as they come in.

“You aren't, by any chance, open, are you?” Kris asks amiably. “See, we're all out of gas, and – ”

“That's a nice story, pal.” The man who sidles out of the backroom is tall and broad, his pants are tailored and creased perfectly. His immaculately styled hair and white, even teeth are entirely out of place here. It was beginning to look like Amber's story had something to it. “How about you two turn around, go back to whatever rock you crawled out from under. I'll pretend I never saw you.”

His smirk is infuriating. Kris flexes his hand by his side and thinks about how satisfying it'll be to break it. “I love the ambiance you've got going on here,” Kris says. “Very end-of-the-world chic.”

What he's doing is stalling. It gives him time to assess the Dracs and draw out the rest in the back and give Minseok less to work with while he's trying to dig shit out. He reaches up to scratch his nose carefully and speaks under his breath while his mouth is covered. “I'll take Captain Smug over there. You grab the goons at the desk.”

As he speaks, a few more masked figures shift into sight in the dimly lit doorway. Zitao nods almost imperceptibly and takes a step forward, settling into a wider, more stable stance. “Last chance,” the Scarecrow croons.

The man reaches for something in his pocket, but Kris doesn't let him get there. He's willing to let the self-satisfied creep get the last word if it means that Kris can get in the first shot. He barrels forward and collides with him bodily, the impact of his shoulder driving the Scarecrow backwards into the two Draculoids behind him. One trips on broken tile and plummets backwards, head hitting the ground with an audible crack. Lucky.

Luck isn't everything, though. Kris isn't small, but this Scarecrow is bigger, more solid. He recovers quickly and grabs a handful of Kris' hair, hauling his head back until Kris' neck screams at him and he has to yield, scrambling backwards. “Zonerats,” the man spits. It sends a buzz of anger prickling up Kris' spine and he narrows his eyes at him. “Scum.”

This guy is a particularly potent flavour of asshole, but it's good. It makes Kris grit his teeth and grind his heels into the dirt. He's going to make this hurt.

Unfortunately, the Scarecrow is also powerful and well-trained. He doesn't wait for Kris to attack again and takes the lead himself. Kris manages to dodge the first swing, but the second catches him in the ribs, almost on top of his stitches, and sends him sprawling. The pain is startling and steals his breath.

Kris catches a glimpse of Zitao, leaping off the table and taking one of the Dracs out with a neat kick to the head. It's only a glimpse though, and then he's throwing himself to the side just in time to escape the polished shoe heel aimed at his head. He takes advantage of the man's momentary lack of balance to hammer his knuckles into the back of the Scarecrow's knee.

It's effective. The man wobbles and tips forward, falling to all fours. Gathering himself, Kris presses his hand to his stitches and then launches himself at him again. The Scarecrow is well trained, but he seems unprepared for Kris' reckless method of attack. He manages to wrestle the man to the floor and get in a few good shots before he feels the cool press of a zap's barrel against the back of his neck.

“You've got some tricks up your sleeve, I'll give you that,” the Scarecrow pants, struggling to breathe under Kris' weight. “Almost had me there.”

Dracs. Idiots. Everyone knows you don't actually press a gun to the person you're threatening. It lets them know exactly where your weapon is. Kris can be quick when he wants to be, and he swings to the left, bringing up his right hand at the same time to bat the zap away. The Drac squeezes off a shot but it goes wide, burning a hole in the tile next to the Scarecrow's head. “Jesus,” the man shouts.

Kris pays him no mind, instead choosing to wrench the Drac's zap out of his hands. It's not even tough, and the quick movement knocks the goon forward, tripping over the Scarecrow's arm. He goes sprawling and Kris snorts and raises his eyebrows at the man he's sitting on. _Really_?

The scowl he gets in return is incredibly satisfying. Less satisfying is how the Scarecrow bucks and kicks, throwing Kris to the side and leaving him, yet again, flat on his back. The man's foot lands a lucky blow perilously close to Kris' balls.

Kris sucks in a breath, his stitches burning. He spares a second to hope that he doesn't rip them open. He's not sure he wants to take the time and risk another trip to Joonmyun's place.

Recovered, the Scarecrow lunges forward, managing to pin one of Kris' arms, the one with the zap. That's not good. He knows that in terms of sheer force, he can't win. He has to get sneaky. Scarecrows get good training, but what they don't get trained in is the dirty stuff.

Before he gets a chance to move, the Scarecrow uses their close proximity to pummel Kris. His fist hammers into Kris' jaw and ribs, knocking the breath right out of him and making him gasp and reel. He struggles for a reprieve, jabbing his fingers desperately up and into the man's eyes. The Scarecrow lets out a howl, letting go of Kris to clap his hands over his face and Kris scrambles backwards.

Finally, finally, he manages to get to his feet again. Kris hopes it'll give him the upper hand again. The Drac runs at him, and Kris rolls his eyes. He sidesteps the man's attack and slams the heel of the gun into his head. He crumples, and Kris turns back to his main concern: the Scarecrow.

The man is slowly pushing himself to his feet, blinking at him with red, sore eyes. “Son of a bitch,” he growls. Before he can get his bearings, Kris kicks him in the gut, hard. When the Scarecrow drops to his knees, Kris closes the distance between them, grabbing the back of the man's head and hauling it forward as he brings his knee up, hard. There's a satisfying crack and the Scarecrow goes limp and heavy in Kris' hands. He lets him fall to the floor.

It's a credit to Kris' pride that he doesn't follow him. He's out of breath, his head is ringing, and he can already feel the ache of impending bruises. When he prods gently at the stitches at his side, his fingers come away bloody. Shit. Well, still. He's just glad that this jackass was shallow enough to be wearing some expensive shoes, instead of boots. Those would've really hurt.

He glances up to find Zitao sitting crosslegged on the desk, looking amused. “Well done, duizhang,” he says. His smile is sharp and stretches from ear to ear. “So graceful.” He looks completely unruffled, the head to toe black he wears almost completely untouched by the dust in the store. By comparison, Kris is filthy, dirt caked to his knees and arms and back. He's not sure if he should be embarrassed.

Kris frowns, still trying to slow his heartbeat, and he points a finger at Zitao. “You shut up,” he says.

“Are you guys done?” Minseok calls. He pokes his head around the doorway from the backroom, and his eyes fall on the Scarecrow, prone on the floor. “Huh. Big dude.”

“Yeah,” Kris nods, shooting Zitao a look. “A _big_ dude.”

Zitao hops neatly off the table and pats Kris' shoulder. “Very big.”

Minseok has to climb over a couple of unconscious Dracs to reach them. He holds out his findings. “Looks like Amber's friends have good intel,” he sighs. The bag of pills hits the table with a solid thump, and Kris has no doubt that there's more where that comes from. “Back room is packed with this shit.”

The adrenaline of the fight still buzzes in Kris' blood, but it ebbs away at the sight of so many of those little yellow pills. He's tempted to do something dramatic, knock the pills off the table, send them skittering across the floor, but it's not worth it. “We burn it,” he says.

Exhaling, Minseok nods. “We're really doing this, huh?”

“We are.” Kris straightens his mask and tries to brush some of the dirt off his jacket. He looks down as one of the Dracs on the floor groans and shifts, and Zitao catches the man with the heel of his boot, knocking him out again.

The gas station goes up fast, and in the setting sun, Kris figures that there's probably a kind of beauty to it. He doesn't dwell on it. The BL/IND guys are starting to stir, and he doesn't want to give them someone to follow home. He pushes Zitao towards the car, and as they hightail it back home, Lu Han and Yixing behind them, one thing just keeps repeating over and over in Kris' head. _This is war_.

 

 

-

 

 

“I didn't expect to see you so soon,” Joonmyun says. Kris can't decide if he looks any better today, anymore rested, but he's also distracted by the fact that he's bleeding through the makeshift bandages over his torn stitches. “I should've known, huh.” He squeezes Zitao's shoulder as he passes. “Hey, kiddo.”

“Hi, hyung,” Zitao says. “Duizhang got his ass handed to him.” He sits in the examination table, legs folded up underneath him.

Joonmyun gently pushes Kris' bloody hands away to examine the wound. “You know,” Kris says. “I did knock him out in the end.” He looks down and he finds Joonmyun biting back a smile. “I thought this kinda job came with like, awe and respect.”

“That has to be earned,” Joonmyun tells him, smirking a little.

He works quickly, and it's only a few minutes before he's got Kris cleaned up and stitched up again. “There,” he says. “Seriously, though, you need to stop ending up here. Didn't anyone ever teach you how not to get in fights?”

“I guess not,” Kris says. He wipes futilely at the sticky spot on his shirt before he gives up, finally, frowning and pulling it down. “And things probably aren't gonna get any better.”

He catches the little pause in Joonmyun's step as he turns to put his supplies away. “Something big?” His tone is cautious.

Up until now, since the day Joonmyun found him bleeding out in an alleyway and dragged him home to patch him up, Joonmyun has never asked questions. He knows their names, and the fact that what they do is illegal, that's not exactly a jump. They're dirty and half-starved, and they don't look like the vacant-eyed residents of the city. Both Kris and Joonmyun, they're practical. They know that the less that Joonmyun knows, the safer it is for him. For all of them, really. Zitao's got a knack for first-aid, but he doesn't have Joonmyun's training.

That question, quiet and tentative, it tips the balance. It means that somewhere in the past year and a half, Kris and his guys quit being a charity case and started being something Joonmyun cares about. He'd be lying if he said that that didn't set off a kind of slow burn behind his ribs.

It also makes him nervous, though. “You could say that,” Kris replies, just as cautious. Joonmyun's back is to him, and he can feel Zitao's eyes on him. When he glances over at him, Zitao raises his eyebrows, eyes widening meaningfully. _Tell him_. Not that simple, kid. “Why?”

Kris' shirt is sticking to his side, and his fingers are stained with blood. When Joonmyun turns, he looks like he's choosing his words carefully. “When you're in the city, do you ever look at the graffiti?”

Kris shakes his head, frowning. “What?”

“Give me your hand.” Confused, Kris holds out his less bloody hand to Joonmyun. Joonmyun grabs him firmly by the wrist, tugging a marker out of his back pocket and pulling off the lid with his teeth. “Have you ever seen something like this?” He's not a particularly talented artist, but the stylized eye he sketches is clear. It's also familiar.

“Yeah,” he says suddenly. “Yeah, isn't there one like, a half-block down, on the step in front of that apartment building?”

Joonmyun looks pleased. “Have you ever wondered what they mean?”

He's nervous, Kris realizes. He's not sure where Joonmyun's going with this, but it's enough to make him scared. Kris curls his fingers around the hand that Joonmyun still has on his wrist. It gets him a tiny smile. “Not really,” he admits. “I bet you've got an idea, though.”

“I think,” Joonmyun says, and then he clears his throat. “I think that your interests may be mutual.”

The card he deposits in Kris' palm is creased and worn. There's just two things on it, an address, a place further into the city than Kris generally likes to go, and a name. _Videre_. He closes his hand around it, suddenly a little off balance.

Kris has spent a lot of time out in the Zones, looking out for himself and the people he cares about, and if there's one thing he's learned, it's to be careful who you trust. People are always willing to cooperate around here, but when it comes down to it, everyone looks out for themselves first. It's only fair.

But this, this feels official. It feels a lot like hope, and not a little danger. “Joonmyun,” he says quietly. There's a chance, he knows, that Joonmyun has been playing them from the start. A company plant, there to gain their trust, get some intel, and then lead them into a trap when the time was right. Still, his gut says that Joonmyun is for real. He decides to go with it. “Is this legit?”

Joonmyun still hasn't pulled away. He nods. “I went to school with one of them.”

This means that there's a chance that they're not alone. The thought makes Kris' breath a little short. “Whoa,” Zitao breathes. When Kris looks over at him, he sees his own hope and surprise reflected on Zitao's face.

“Thank you,” Kris says, sincerely, and Joonmyun smiles then, quick and bright, and Kris hadn't even realized he'd been waiting for it. “This is.” He shakes his head and laughs softly. “This could be really important.”

“Good.”

Joonmyun slides his hand free, and Kris only realizes belatedly that his own are still bloody. He tucks the card into his pocket and moves to stand. “Who knew a nurse would have so many connections?” he says.

“I've got a few things up my sleeve,” Joonmyun says. He darts over to the sink, and Kris figures he's cleaning a few things up until he returns with a wet cloth for Kris to clean himself up with. “Don't need to be seen out on the street past curfew with blood all over you.”

“Wouldn't be the first time,” Zitao says.

Kris carefully wipes the sticky blood off his hands and out from under his nails, and then tosses the cloth on the counter. “Oh, before I forget,” he says, and he tugs the shirt Joonmyun had lent him out of his back pocket. “Thanks for this.” He's not certain why it's a bit difficult for him to meet Joonmyun's eyes, or why the tips of his ears feel warm.

“Oh,” Joonmyun says, and then he smiles up at Kris. “I forgot about that. Chanyeol will be pleased to have it back.” He presses his fingers against Kris' shoulder in thanks, and it lingers.

Kris finds Zitao watching the two of them with one hand against his mouth, his eyes slightly pained. Embarrassment burns in Kris' ears. “We should get going,” he says.

“Be careful, alright?” Joonmyun says earnestly. “Look after yourself. Yourselves. Please.”

“You too,” Kris replies.

When they're out on the street again, hoods pulled up to hide their faces, Zitao sighs heavily. “You two are painful to watch,” he tells Kris, pushing his hands into his pockets.

“What?”

“Why don't either of you _say_ something?” Kris makes a choked noise and glares at Zitao. Out of the corner of his eye, he thinks he catches movement, but it could just be the long day and the crash after the adrenaline rush. “I'm just saying! Is it a kind of mating dance? 'Cause it doesn't seem to be working.”

It's a long walk back to the car. At least, Kris sighs to himself, at least he's not paying attention to the pain in his ribs anymore.

 

-

 

Maybe it's how tired he is after a night of no sleep and then ripping open his stitches again, but Kris passes out as soon as they get home, dead to the world. Minseok wakes him up unceremoniously, kicking his mattress and throwing a pillow at his head. “It's like an hour until sunset,” he informs Kris when he surfaces from his blankets, blinking at him, grumpy. “You're not our leader, you're a bat.”

Still, he feels more well-rested than he has in months. A quick examination of his stitches tells him that they're holding up and he smiles, pleased.

He makes it into the main room just as Lu Han and Yixing are returning from a quick city run. Zitao and Sehun are squeezed into an armchair, their fingers tangled together. Nearby, Jongin is sprawled on the floor, looking put out and throwing little balled up pieces of paper at their heads. It'll be a pain to clean up, but Kris has to admit that the look of twitchy irritation on Minseok's face is kinda funny.

“Coffee me,” Kris says, waving a hand as he claims a seat at the table.

Minseok raises his eyebrows, but he fills a mug and drops it in front of Kris anyway. “Guess that sleep did you well, huh? You are in a weirdly good mood.”

“I know what it is,” Zitao crows, tipping his head to the side, smile undampened by the dark look that Kris throws his way. Insufferable. Practically raised the kid, and he still won't take Kris seriously.

After a second of trying to convince Zitao to keep his mouth shut with the power of his eyebrows and his brain, Kris lifts his coffee. “Hey, Sehun? Think those kids next door wanna swap some eggs for the leftovers from Joonmyun?”

Sehun, comfortable in his spot on Zitao's lap, musters up one of his best apathetic looks yet. “Maybe,” he says.

A quick shove from Zitao deposits Sehun on the floor, nearly on top of Jongin. “It's your turn,” Kris tells Sehun, who scrambles to his feet, wrathful.

“If they break on the way home, I'm not responsible,” Sehun threatens, snatching the leftovers out of the fridge sullenly, practically stomping towards the door. When he slams the door behind him, the room erupts in laughter.

“Drama queen,” Jongdae shrugs. Zitao collects some of the paper out of his lap and dumps it on Jongin's face.

Remembering last night, Kris fishes around in his pocket until he finds the card and tosses it out on the table. “This is why I'm in a good mood,” he says.

Yixing slides into a chair and picks it up, flicking it over. He and Lu Han are still wearing their city gear, plain white jackets and white pants, and it always makes Kris uncomfortable until they change. He knows they have to blend in up there, but Yixing is so pale, he plays the part unnervingly well.

“You got a date?” Yixing asks. If it were anyone else, his smile would look sweet, and genuine. Kris has known Yixing far too long to be fooled by it. “Congratulations, duizhang.”

Zitao laughs loudest at that, his eyes all sneaky and smug.

“No. But we do.” Lu Han's hand darts over Yixing's shoulder and he snatches the card away. “Joonmyun gave me that. He said that maybe we've got some interests in common.”

Leaning against the counter, arms crossed across his chest, Minseok looks a bit grim. “And we trust him?” he asks.

Minseok flinches when Zitao nails him neatly in the nose with a balled up piece of paper. “We do,” Zitao tells him. His eyes flick to Kris and he nods infinitesimally.

Minseok is silent for a few seconds, looking thoughtfully at the card in Lu Han's hand. It's good, Kris tells himself. Minseok is his second in command for a reason. Level-headed, sharp, doesn't let emotion cloud his judgement. “Worth a try, right?” Minseok says, finally, and Kris smiles.

“That's what I thought.”

It's when Minseok takes a second to look over the card, that Kris realizes that Sehun has been gone for a while. It's next door, it only takes a few minutes to get there and back. “Where's Sehun?” he asks.

Jongin and Zitao are up like a shot, scrambling for the door. Jongin only pauses long enough to stuff his zap in the back of his pants and then they're both gone.

It's better, in this life, to be a bit paranoid. For the second time in a day, Kris finds himself listening to his gut instinct, and it's telling him to worry. “Kid, Stunner, wait a sec, then come out. Just in case.”

Codenames mean it's serious, and the playful expression slides right off of Yixing's face. “Got it,” he nods. Lu Han pushes his sleeves up and goes hunting for his zap.

Kris doesn't bother with his jacket, he just shoves his feet into his boots, and with a nod at Minseok, heads out the door. There's a bat leaning next to the door, and he grabs it, just in case. Better safe than sorry.

He doesn't have to go far. Across the street, in the grassy space between two buildings, a masked woman has Sehun by the throat. It sends a chill down Kris' spine. They found them? Fucking Scarecrows. In front of her both Zitao and Jongin stand at the ready, and Jongin has his zap levelled at her head. “Let him go,” Zitao demands, voice unsteady.

Face hard, Kris approaches them. “Don't think you want to be doing that,” he says, and casually, threateningly, hefts the bat up to rest against his shoulder. The woman is tall, slender, a pony tail high up on her head. She looks almost familiar. “I strongly suggest you let my guy go.”

Her fingers tighten around Sehun's throat, and Kris can see now, the knife she has pressed up against his back. Sehun's eyes are wide and fixed on him. Kris grits his teeth. “He's got sharp eyes,” she says, her mouth twisting down. “I didn't think he'd notice me.” Her voice is strong and her Korean is accented.

“He's good,” Kris agrees. He starts shifting, slowly, never getting closer to her, but putting some distance between himself and Zitao. Distantly, he hears the door to their place open. “What are you doing all the way out here on your own, Scarecrow? Didn't know your type did grunt work.” He shifts the bat on his shoulder and watches her steadily.

“Scouting,” she says, briefly. Her eyes dart to a spot behind him, and Lu Han and Yixing step up bracket him. Lu Han doesn't hesitate to point his zap at her. “Two caches,” she says. “Impressive. That takes you from 'thorn in the side' to 'bug to be squashed'.”

Sehun's not a weak kid by any means, but the fear on his face is plain. Kris needs to get him out of there, _now_. Kris brushes his free hand against Yixing, and gets a minute jerk of his chin in return. “Lucky us,” Kris says. She's trying to look cool, but no matter how steady her hands are, she still betrays herself when she licks her lips nervously.

“Yeah,” she agrees. She starts backing away from them, dragging Sehun with her, small measured steps. “It was luck, wasn't it? Pretty Boy is one of the company's best. I find it hard to believe that a motley bunch like _you_ took him out.”

Next to him, Yixing carefully thumbs open the battery casing on his zap, surreptitiously sliding it out and palming it. “You're talking a lot of shit right now,” Jongin says through his teeth. “Let him go.”

Her eyes dart over to Jongin, and Yixing takes advantage of the distraction to throw the battery at her. It's small and doesn't cause much damage, but her grip on Sehun loosens, and it's all they need. Jongin lunges forward and drags him out of her hands, shoving Sehun behind him and keeping his zap pointed at her head.

Zitao goes for a more direct approach. He slams into her middle, sending them both crashing to the ground. The impact shakes her knife out of her hand and Zitao pins her there. “Duizhang,” he says breathlessly. “Say the word.”

“Hold on,” Kris says, dropping his hand to Zitao's shoulder and squeezing for a second. The fall has knocked the Scarecrow's mask off, and when Kris gets a good look at her, he blinks in surprise. “Song Qian?” he says. He _knows_ her. He went to school with her. He sat in the next row. He remembers her, bright and studious and protective of her friends.

“Yifan?” The shock on her face is genuine and a little disarming. Zitao glances up at him, confused, but he doesn't let go of the grip he has on her

“Kris, now.” He shakes his head. “Never pegged you for the enforcement type, you know.”

Swallowing hard, Song Qian looks up at him. There's a vulnerability to her eyes that makes him uneasy. Smug, he can handle. Cocky, cold, sure. This is something else entirely. She shrugs a shoulder, just a bare twitch of movement with how Zitao has her pinned. “They have Jinri,” she tells him finally, after several long moments of awkward silence. It takes a second for it to click, then he remembers her. Tall, sweet, and Song Qian had always doted on her. “They have Jinri.”

Ah, now that one hits home. Kris drops to a crouch next to her and drags a hand through his dirty hair. “Damn,” he says. He glances back to check on Sehun, but he doesn't need to worry. Jongin got his arms wrapped around Sehun from behind and his face buried in his shoulder while Lu Han fusses with his hair. Kris can tell that Sehun's rattled, though, he doesn't even bother to bat Lu Han's hands away.

When Kris turns back, Song Qian's eyes are fixed on him, wide and unblinking. Now this, this complicates things. If she were anyone else, they'd just drop her. One quick shot, and they could buy themselves a couple of days, if they were lucky. But it is Song Qian. Maybe he should be suspicious, but this is so far from how he'd expected she'd turn out. Song Qian had always been bright in every sense of the word, but she'd never tended towards the kind of violence being a Scarecrow entailed.

“What have you gotten yourself into?” Kris asks her, and it startles a laugh out of her, uncertain and too loud.

“Deep shit,” she replies. Kris taps Zitao's shoulder and with great reluctance, he climbs off her, the hunch of his shoulders betraying his frustration with Kris.

Song Qian straightens, rubbing at her wrists and making no attempt to reach for her knife. “I'm sorry,” she says to Sehun, voice honest.

He says nothing, and over his shoulder, Jongin glares at her. Kris feels sorry when hurt flashes across her face, but he doesn't move to do anything to smooth it over. Maybe she was being coerced into this, but that doesn't mean that she didn't just have a knife to one of his guys, and that's something he's really not okay with.

“How long?” Kris asks her.

“A couple of years?” she shrugs. “When they let me see her, she says that they treat her fine, but – ” She ducks her head. “She's all...” She draws a grim parody of a smile with her fingers. “You know.” Drugged to the gills, she means. He thinks about his mother and he nods.

Krs can't help but feel somewhat sympathetic to Song Qian. He's not sure what he'd do if BL/IND ever pulled the same trick on him with Zitao or one of the kids. “Yeah,” he says. “I know.”

She reaches to grab her mask, pulling it into her lap and tracing the eyes with her thumbs. When she reaches the part that covers the bridge of her nose, she presses in, hard, and there's an audible click. Bugged, he realizes. “How do you feel about a bargain?” she asks.

“A bargain,” he says slowly.

“Didn't know Scarecrows bargained.” Kris looks up as Minseok approaches, and lets him tug him to his feet. “This is interesting.”

“If I tell you how to get to the Exterminator, will you get her out?” The mask is now crumpled in her hands. “I can't do it myself. They watch me. Will you get her out?” There's an edge of desperation to her words that can't be faked. “Please.”

Inside intel. Scarecrows were entitled to a lot of access to BL/IND's upper echelon, and it could be very, very useful. Minseok is already looking at him, one eyebrow raised. He knows what Kris is gonna say. “Soft,” Minseok tells him quietly, a half-smile on his lips.

Kris shrugs. Not the first time he's heard it. “What do you have for us?” he asks Song Qian, and he holds out a hand to help her to her feet.

 

-

 

Kris hates coming this far into the city. It's like all of the colour has been sucked out of everything, nothing left but dirty greys. Everywhere he looks, he sees the flash of Better Living's moving signs, their smiley face logo slightly sinister in the waning light.

They ditch the car at the outskirts, it's far too conspicuous, and catch the subway towards the inner city. The white jacket they scrounged up for him is just a little too small, showing flashes of wrist and stretching tightly over the shoulders. Kris has his hood pulled up to cover his blond hair, it'd a dead giveaway this far in. He feels so _uncomfortable_ , certain that they'll be noticed.

Yixing and Lu Han have an ease that he wishes he had. They've been running scouting missions up into the city for months now, and right now, Kris is glad for it. Lu Han leads them unerringly to their destination, and Yixing's mastery of the right placid, dead-eyed gaze is unnerving.

The building at the address Joonmyun gave him is nondescript, a modern office building, but the door doesn't open when they try it. Before Kris even has a chance to wonder what they're going to do, a tall, thin man approaches the door. He opens it just enough to stick his head out. “Hi,” he says. He has a long nose and a polite smile, and he's impeccably dressed. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“I have a card,” Kris tells him, holding it up for inspection.

The man plucks it from Kris' fingers, his smooth veneer never slipping. “Ah. Well, you'd better come inside.”

They don't get any further than the lobby before the man is gesturing for them to take a seat. “I just need to confirm a few things,” he says. “You understand. Who gave you the card?”

“A nurse,” Kris says. “Kim Joonmyun.”

A quick nod, and then the man disappears down a corridor.

The wait is interminable. Kris fidgets, pulling at his too-short sleeves as he paces. Yixing and Lu Han sit down on the couch in the lobby. Everything about this place seems carefully engineered to be average. The couch is nice, but not conspicuously so, the art on the walls tasteful but plain. It's not calming his nerves.

“Easy, duizhang,” Lu Han says softly, watching him. Kris hears the warning in his words and remembers suddenly, that Lu Han is still older than him, and very occasionally, wiser. Pacing does him no good, just exposes his discomfort, and Kris stills, pressing his hands flat against his thighs. When Yixing tugs on his jacket, Kris lets himself be pulled down to sit with them on the couch.

He spends most of the rest of the wait staring at the wall, idly counting seconds. Yixing anchors him with a hand around his elbow. He and Lu Han speak softly, but sparingly. It's hard to know if they're being watched right now, and even if these people are exactly who Joonmyun implied they were, it's better safe than sorry.

When the man returns, his charming smile is unchanged. “Follow me, please,” he says.

The room he leads them to is just as nondescript. Kris assumes it's caution again. They may be another step further into the building, but that doesn't mean they trust Kris and his guys. Oddly enough, this reassures him.

Two men are waiting for them. One leans back against the table, the only piece of furniture in the room, the other is seated behind it. Kris situates himself in front of them, Yixing and Lu Han flanking him, and out of the corner of his eye, he notes the tall man positioning himself by the door.

“You know Joonmyun?” one of the men asks without preamble. He's small and soft, big eyes fixed on Kris, but there's something steely in his gaze that tells Kris not to underestimate him.

“I do,” Kris agrees. “He's patched us up a few times.” The room is stifling with tension. Both of these men are half his size, unassuming, but they're not intimidated by his height, nor his gaze. Despite himself, Kris is impressed. They're not playing at this.

“And just who are you?” The second man has sharp eyes and long, delicate fingers, resting on the desk in front of him. “You might be playing at it, but you're not a resident of Battery City.”

Kris pushes his hood back, and the sight of his blond hair gets a tiny nod from the man behind the desk. “You're right,” he agrees. “I'm Fiveclaw. I'm BL/IND's current thorn in their side. These are my boys Kid Swindle and Shotgun Stunner. We're killjoys.”

“Killjoy.” This is from the first guy, a faint smile playing across his full lips. “As in against the joy in pill form the company doles out? Clever.”

It doesn't quite feel like a compliment, but Kris takes it as one anyway. The name was a product of Jongdae, a long night, and a lot of beer, and maybe if he's real lucky, Kris will pass the man's words on to him. “How about you return the favour, and tell us who you are?”

The men exchange a look and the one behind the desk hesitates, considering. “My name is Baekhyun,” he says finally. “This is Kyungsoo.” The first guy who spoke nods at them. “And our associate there is Zhou Mi.” A wave from the tall man at the door. “We, along with others, are Videre.” Baekhyun tilts his head. “Do you know what we do?”

“No,” Kris admits. “Joonmyun just said we have interests in common.”

“Maybe we do,” Kyungsoo agrees.

This dancing around saying things is starting to grate on Kris' nerves. “So you're Videre. I guessed. Mind telling me what it is you guys do in here?”

A smile plays on Baekhyun's lips. “Impatient,” he notes. Kris doesn't bother to reply, choosing instead to arch an eyebrow. He's out of his comfort zone, here, and these people are doing nothing to help him out. He's not pleased.

“We're an underground organization dedicated to taking down Better Living Industries.” Kyungsoo's words ring clear in the small room, and they sound official. “We have spent the past few years gathering intelligence and working to sabotage Better Living Industries' drug production and control of the populace.”

“Oh, you're doing real well,” Lu Han quips, his face serene even when Kris throws him an exasperated look.

“You must be unfamiliar with the concept of subtlety,” Baekhyun replies, and the bite of it pulls at the corners of Kris' mouth. “They control everything. There are a lot strings to be cut. You can't just charge in and tell them to stop.”

Kris nods. “Sure. But you can't wait for a perfect moment for a revolution, either.”

Baekhyun frowns. Apparently, this is getting too philosophical for him. “I'd like to know what you expect from us,” he says. “Why are you coming to us now?”

“They're hunting us.” Kyungsoo's mouth drops open a little, and for the first time, Kris catches a glimpse of something a bit softer there. “They're shifting their drug storage out to the zones, and I guess getting rid of us in the process.”

“We want your _help_ ,” Yixing says.

Baekhyun is already shaking his head. “We don't deal in violence,” he explains. At least, Kris supposes, he looks sorry.

“Videre, we're not about just taking out Better Living Industries.” Kyungsoo frowns, crossing his arms and tucking his hands in against his sides. “It's not enough just to knock out the Exterminator, you know. Half the population pops those stupid smiley face pills every morning just to get to work. What happens when they're gone?”

Kris doesn't have an answer for that, and it makes his stomach shift uncomfortably. He'd been so focused on looking after his guys, he'd kind of forgotten the big picture.

“These things take time,” Baekhyun says. “If you're just patient – ”

“We'll die.” Kris doesn't bother to soften it. “All of us. We're in the way, and we're in the way _now_.”

There's no quick reply this time, no pat response. Kris feels the weight of their eyes on him, and he doesn't look away. “We can fight,” he says. “But if they send them all after us, I don't think it'll do us any good.”

“I'm sorry,” Kyungsoo tells them softly. “If you want backup, that's not something we can do.”

Well, it was a slim chance anyway, Kris should've known it wouldn't work. Still, the disappointment hits him hard. Any help would have been worth it.

“Is there anything else?” Lu Han asks suddenly, and Kris narrows his eyes, wondering what he's playing at it. “What kind of intel do you have? How about connections?”

“You want us to risk everything we've built up to help a handful of zonerats?” Baekhyun's tone is too close to that of the Scarecrow in the gas station, and Kris bristles.

“In the past week, we've burned two of BL/IND's drug caches to the ground,” he says coldly. “We've dealt with Scarecrows three times and we're three for three. What the fuck are you doing?”

Kris isn't sure what kind of reaction he's expecting, but it's not the way that Kyungsoo brushes past him, sharp little elbow hitting Kris' ribs before he disappears through the door. He blinks, confused, and when he glances at Yixing, Yixing just shrugs, just as baffled.

Neither Zhou Mi nor Baekhyun offer up an explanation, and they stay silent until Kyungsoo returns, a file folder in his hand. He shoves it at Kris' chest, looking angry. “Here,” he snaps. “There's the plans for the Exterminator's compound in the core and the location of the security rooms.”

Baekhyun doesn't look pleased, but he doesn't argue with Kyungsoo's decision. “We have someone on the inside,” he says. Kris can see his tension in the way his graceful fingers are clenched tightly. “We can get you through the front door. That's the best we can do.”

It's something, still. Everyone knows about the Exterminator's paranoia and a pass through the first round of security is no small thing. “Thank you,” Kris says sincerely, juggling the folder to free up one of his hands to hold out to Baekhyun. “This is amazing.”

Baekhyun's grip is firm, and Kyungsoo's is even more so. “Use it well,” Kyungsoo tells him seriously.

“We will,” Kris assures him. Baekhyun offers him a quick, terse smile. Lu Han holds out his hand and Kris hands over the folder without complaint. As he flicks through it, Kris realizes something.

“You know this is a mutually beneficial situation, right?” he says.

Kyungsoo raises an eyebrow. “How so?”

“We're just trying to survive,” Kris says. “Hitting the company before they hit us, that's our only option. That doesn't mean I want to pick up the pieces.”

“Ah,” Baekhyun says. “You're saying, this is kind of like you're doing our dirty work?”

Lu Han clicks his tongue in annoyance, eyes narrowing in faint disdain. “More like the heavy lifting.”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes and shrugs a shoulder.

“What's your plan?” Kyungsoo asks.

Kris lets the silence stretch before he answers, running his tongue across his teeth. “That's a good question,” he says finally. “We haven't had a chance to work it out yet. I was waiting on seeing exactly what you guys could provide.”

“Fair enough.” Kyungsoo inclines his head. “We should work together on this. Put our heads together, get our man on the same page as yours. You guys can get in, take care of business, then we can deal with cleaning things up.” He nods to himself. “Yes, this could work.”

Kris hadn't thought of Baekhyun as particularly attractive, but his smile at Kyungsoo's words lights up his face. “It could,” he says, but his tone says _it will_. There's a ferocity to the little man that says that rather than blind optimism, he thinks that they'll make it work. Yeah. They'll get along well.

He glances at Yixing, and the light in his eyes makes Kris smile. Can't forget the details, though. “Alright,” he says. “How do we wanna do this? Do we come back in here, or – ”

“No,” Baekhyun says immediately. “Zhou Mi will get you the address of one of our alternative locations. You understand.”

Of course. Now, more than ever, they need to be careful. “Got it.” Lu Han closes the folder and tucks it under his arm. “Pleasure doing business with you guys,” he says.

“You too, Fiveclaw,” Baekhyun says, standing.

It doesn't matter much now, really, but he decides to say it anyway. “Kris,” he corrects. “I'm Kris.”

Next to him, Yixing raises his hand. “Yixing,” he says, smiling. He points a finger at Kris' other side. “And that's Lu Han.”

Kyungsoo's mouth opens a little in surprise, and Baekhyun blinks, and then both are returning Yixing's smile. There's understanding in their expressions, and Kyungsoo nods at him. They know what it means, Kris sharing this little token of trust. He hopes it reassures them.

After they say their goodbyes and Zhou Mi has pressed another card into Kris' hand, Kris, Yixing and Lu Han slip out of a side entrance to the building and take a round-about route back to the car. Kris has the folder tucked into his jeans, under his jacket, and it rubs up uncomfortably against his shoulder blades when he takes a step. It's not enough to dampen the anticipation that's thrumming through him right now, though. It's funny how something so small can make things feel so _possible_.

Now would be a terrible time to draw attention to themselves, but even Yixing's got a bit of a smile on his lips. Kris has the beginning of a plan coalescing in his head, and it's starting to feel like they've got more than desperation on their side. It feels good.

 

-

 

They take the third cache less than a week later. This time, Kris takes Sehun and Jongin with him. He knows that they live for this stuff, for the risk and the rush, and sometimes he finds it hard to deny them what they want.

The old school on One is big, and this time, there are more guys. It seems that BL/IND hasn't missed the way that their caches keep getting hit, one after another, and they've reacted accordingly. The fight is long and furious and Kris thinks it must be pure luck that he doesn't rip open his stitches again. He and Jongin have to work together to take out the Scarecrow who's running the place, a wiry, plastic-faced man who fights dirty. He digs his thumb into Kris' eyes and bites Jongin whenever he pins him down and gets too close. He miscalculates when he pulls out his zap, though, and the shot that grazes Sehun's bicep sends Jongin into a fury. Kris may still think of the two of them as kids, and they are young, still, but the cold look on Jongin's face when he slams the Scarecrow's head into the battered wooden floor isn't the least bit childlike.

When it's all said and done, Kris thinks he's broken a finger or two, and he _knows_ that Jongin's nose is broken. Jongin gasps when Kris gently examines him, glaring at him like it's somehow _his_ fault. Between that and the limp that Sehun keeps trying to hide from him, it looks like it's time for another visit to Joonmyun's place.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” Joonmyun tells Kris, stepping aside to let the three of them into the clinic. It's not dark out yet, and they've been around a lot recently, but Kris hopes their luck will hold. “You three look like a mess. You smell like smoke.”

“Arson does that to you,” Sehun says. He takes the stairs gingerly, but when Jongin holds out a hand to him and tells him softly to 'quit being an asshole', he slaps him away and stubbornly continues at his own pace.

Joonmyun raises his eyebrows as he catches Sehun's wrist and helps him onto the cot. Sehun still scowls, but he doesn't pull away. “Arson?” he asks. His eyes flick over to Kris, and something in his expression must tell Joonmyun not to ask. “You guys sure know how to party.”

“Hyung,” Sehun says. “Shhh. Your jokes are lame.” He shifts, and the movement makes him wince. “Can you fix my knee already?” Kris watches him steadily, a bit worried. If he can't even keep up his pretence, that makes Kris worried. At least he's still being a smartass. That's a good sign.

After a few minutes of examination, Joonmyun straightens. “Just a strain, I think,” he says. “You'll be fine if you stay off of it for a few days.”

“It feels worse,” Sehun mutters.

“Baby,” Jongin says. “Suck it up.” His smirk vanishes in a flash when Sehun belts him. He yelps and rubs his arm mournfully, sending a pleading look Kris' way. Kris just shrugs. He definitely deserved that one.

Sehun returns the favour when Joonmyun resets Jongin's nose. His hands are steady, and Jongin does his best to hold still, but he looks miserable. Sehun is cackling.

After the kids have been taken care of, Kris finally lets Joonmyun look at his fingers. “You only broke one,” Joonmyun says, flashing Kris a quick smile. “I'll splint the three of them, though, and you have to remember to punch guys with the _other_ hand.” He's got Kris' hand cradled in his lap, and the size difference is striking. Somehow, even if Joonmyun is so much smaller, he feels entirely safe in his hands.

“I think I can manage that,” Kris says. He pats his ribs with his good hand. “Hey, I didn't even bust open my stitches this time.”

“I'm so proud,” Joonmyun tells him, and Kris hisses as Joonmyun tapes up his fingers.

“Did you want a gold star?” Sehun asks. He's already pulling at the bandage over the graze on his arm, and Jongin frowns at him. Sehun reaches out instead, as if he's going to grab Jongin's nose, and Jongin flinches out of his reach, complaining about how he's 'always gotta deal with this shit'.

At least Sehun isn't picking at his bandage anymore, Kris thinks. Gotta take the little things. He looks down again, sees only the top of Joonmyun's head as he gently fixes things into place. “There,” Joonmyun says after a second, leaning back. “I normally keep the stickers for the kids, but if you really want one, I'm sure I can dig one out.” There's a mischievous spark to his eyes.

Oddly enough, he still hasn't let go of Kris' hand. Instead, he's got both of his hands wrapped around Kris', warm and proprietary. Kris flushes. “Nah, I think I'm good,” he says.

“I think Sehun wants one,” Jongin says. When Kris glances up at him, he snorts. These two need constant supervision sometimes. Jongin has managed to catch both of Sehun's wrists and has them crossed awkwardly in front of Sehun's body, making it hard for him to move without jarring his strained knee or the wound in his arm. Joonmyun claps a hand over his mouth at the sight of Sehun's deadpan unimpressed face.

“Sehun doesn't want one,” Sehun says darkly. Jongin grins.

There's a clatter in the stairwell and then a head pokes through the doorway. Kris has only met Chanyeol once before, and he's just the same as Kris remembers, his hair a curly blond mess, big, wide eyes. This time, though, he doesn't have a smile for Kris. He looks worried.

“Hyung?” he says hesitantly, stepping into the room. He looks like a puppy, limbs too long for his body and hunched in on himself like he's done something wrong and he's waiting for punishment. “Sorry, but there are some guys upstairs?”

Instantly, it sets off alarm bells in Kris' head. “Thriller, grab Gunner. Go wait at the door.”

“Yeah, boss.” Jongin and Sehun don't hesitate, and for once, Sehun doesn't protest the help when Jongin slings his arm around his waist and leads him up the stairs.

“What guys?” Joonmyun asks.

Chanyeol glances nervously at the ceiling. “You know,” he says. “The kind that wear goofy masks.” He grimaces.

Shit. Kris swallows hard and stands abruptly. This is not good. This is not fucking _good_ and Dracs are at Joonmyun's door and Kris brought them here. “What do they want?”

“They said Joonmyun has been seen hanging around enemies to the state,” Chanyeol says apologetically, and pulls at his hair.

“Oh,” Joonmyun says quietly. He still sits on the cot, and now he's staring blankly at the floor.

Kris tries to swallow down his guilt. This is all _his fault_. He never should've let Joonmyun get this involved, and now he's ruined everything he's spent so long building.

“I'm sorry,” Chanyeol says quickly. “I didn't know what to say.”

Joonmyun favours him with a small, genuine smile. “No, it's fine,” he assures Chanyeol. When he walks over to pull Chanyeol into a quick hug, Kris is a little bit astounded. Everything's falling down around Joonmyun's ears and he still manages to find it in him to reassure someone else. “I guess I'd better go face them. It'll distract them, right? Buy you some more time.”

One second. That's all it takes before the decision has been made in Kris' head. “No,” he says, and he charges on before he can take it back. “No, there's another option.”

“What?” Joonmyun asks, and then his eyes widen when he understands. “Wait, are you sure? I can hold them up for a second – ”

Kris shakes his head. “I'm not leaving you for them,” he says, and the steel in his voice makes something in Joonmyun's expression shift. Kris can't read him. “I won't. It's my fault they're even here.”

Next to them, Chanyeol shifts nervously. “I've been gone a while,” he says. “What do you want me to do?”

“Wait a minute after we leave, then go up and tell them we must've gone out through the backdoor,” Kris tells him. He turns to Joonmyun. “We have to go. Now.” He holds out his good hand. “Please don't make me leave without you.”

The silence stretches long enough that Kris decides to take it as a no. “Alright,” he says, even though the thought of leaving tiny Joonmyun to face the Dracs makes him feel sick. Forcing Joonmyun to abandon his life because of something Kris has done feels a little bit too much like kidnapping to him, and he can't quite do it.

“Go,” Chanyeol hisses, and his push sends Joonmyun stumbling towards Kris. It startles an uncharacteristic sharp look out of Joonmyun. “You said they were good guys, right? So go!”

Joonmyun swallows hard, and Kris can almost see him weighing it. “Okay,” he says. He pulls Chanyeol into a quick hug, arms tight around his middle. “Look after yourself. Don't forget, one minute.”

Kris barely gives him a chance to finish speaking. He pushes Joonmyun up the stairs ahead of him, and when he glances back at Chanyeol one last time, he's looking at the clock, counting the seconds. Good kid.

It's Joonmyun's clever hands that ease the door open, practice making him familiar with all the tricks that silence the creak in the hinges. Jongin and Sehun aren't there, but Kris doesn't waste time worrying about them. They're too smart to loiter around behind the building drawing attention to themselves. “Oh my god,” Joonmyun says quietly, and Kris pulls his hood up over his hair. “I don't even have my coat.” He sounds a bit hysterical.

Shouts echo down the street from behind them and without even thinking, Kris drags Joonmyun in front of him, shielding him as he pushes them both into a run.

It's lucky, Kris thinks, that Dracs have such shitty aim. Still, when the crack of zap fire sounds at the end of the alleyway, it spooks Joonmyun. He bolts up towards the mouth of the alley, graceless, and Kris follows half a step behind. As he runs, he makes a note to himself, to find Joonmyun a coat. Something warm. He's skinny.

“Left,” he pants as they make it to the corner, and Joonmyun darts to the side. He's fast, that's good.

He's also always been surprisingly strong. Kris pauses at the end of the alley, looking back at the Dracs to judge how close they are, but Joonmyun's hand catches his wrist and drags him out of the range of fire. “Please,” Joonmyun says. “Please don't get shot on me right now.”

“Okay,” Kris says, and he nudges Joonmyun into a run again. “Okay.”

It's a good thing that Joonmyun knows the area well, because it takes them seven blocks before they shake their tail. He follows Joonmyun down tiny side streets and through yards, and once they even bolt through an open back door and cut through someone's house. Kris wishes he had a second to turn back and watch the Dracs fight their way after them, tripping over the tables they've left upturned in their wake, but gloating is not the point. Vanishing is.

It's dark by the time they lose them, and that's not good. Kris is fairly certain he knows where they are, and how to find their way back to the car, but it's going to be a long walk. As the sweat dries on Joonmyun's back, he starts to shiver. The sun was warm that day, but the night air is cooling rapidly, and Kris shrugs off his jacket and holds it out. When Joonmyun looks up at him, wide-eyed and baffled, Kris just shrugs. “You forgot yours,” he says. He's got a hoodie on underneath, anyway.

The streets are always empty this time of night, so they move quickly, keep to the side streets. Joonmyun's worn sneakers barely make a sound. Next to him, Kris sounds conspicuously loud.

“I'm sorry,” Kris says after a few long minutes. “This is all my fault. I shouldn't have brought them in today, but I guess I wanted to see you.” The tips of his ears burn. “And now all you've got left is the clothes on your back, literally. This is all my fault, I'm sorry.”

He's not sure what kind of reaction he was expecting from Joonmyun, but it wasn't the way that he bristles. “Don't be stupid,” he tells Kris immediately. “I'm the one who found you in the street and decided to patch you up. If we're assigning blame, then, ultimately, it's mine.” He's drowning in Kris' jacket, small frame almost completely buried under the heavy weight of it, the sleeves sliding down to hide his fingers. He seems unphased by this.

“I got myself beat up,” Kris points out.

Joonmyun points a finger at him. “Oh, shut up,” he says. There's no heat in his words, but it warms Kris' chest anyway, the way he looks at him. “You could've left me, but you didn't. Doesn't that make up for it?”

“No,” Kris says honestly.

Joonmyun is silent for a few seconds before he speaks again. “I wanted to help you,” he says. “I knew the risks. It's not your fault.” Kris grunts and Joonmyun sighs, rubbing at his temples. The only noise in the street is the hum of the streetlights and the heavy thunk of Kris' boots. “Agree to disagree?” Joonmyun suggests. He tips his head to look up at Kris. “Or that we're both at fault, at least?”

Kris holds out a hand. “Deal.” He offers Joonmyun a smile, and is dazzled by the one he gets in return.

Up the street, a sharp whistle echoes, and Kris catches a glimpse of dirty pink hair. “Home free,” he says, and the relief is tangible. He can't wait to get out of this fucking city. Joonmyun catches his wrist, fingers peeking out from the cuffs of his jacket, and pulls him towards the kids. He's not the only one.

Jongin drives them home, and it's a good thing that Kris is too tired for a headache, because he and Sehun squabble over the radio the whole time. As he's nodding off, he catches a glimpse of Joonmyun, eyes closed and forehead pressed against the window and he hopes that he hasn't ruined everything for him tonight.

 

-

 

By the time that Joonmyun wakes up the next day, Kris has already spent several hours in the kitchen with Minseok, heads together over the maps provided by Videre. His eyes ache and he's pretty sure that by this point, he's memorized the layout of the damn building, but they still haven't settled on what to do. Kris just wants to hit them hard and hit them fast, but Minseok is more cautious than he is. And while that's probably a good thing, it means they can't stop clashing.

It's Minseok who notices him first. “Hey, doc,” he says. He leans back in his chair, arching his back and letting out a satisfied groan as something cracks. “Sleep well?”

Joonmyun's hair is a tousled mess, and he pulls at the sleeves of his borrowed sweatshirt. “Better than I thought I would,” he admits. He raises his eyebrows in question and Kris nods, pulling a chair out for him. “Remind me to thanks Zitao for giving up his bed.”

Kris snorts. “He volunteered,” he points out. “It was just an excuse for him to have a sleepover with Sehun and Jongin, anyway.”

Minseok scratches at his chest and stifles a yawn, looking between Kris and Joonmyun, and then his smile turns wicked. “Well,” he says, gathering up the maps and folding them away, ignoring Kris' protests. “Time for a break.” Kris should've known that Minseok would get him back for that shit at Amber's. He fixes his eyes on Minseok and does his best to boil his brain in his skull, but Minseok doesn't flinch, casually collecting everything together and even snatching the marker out of Kris' hand.

“We're not done here,” Kris tells him, and Minseok nods.

He waves the folder at them and dodges out the door. “Be back in a few,” he calls over his shoulder. Jongdae is coming in as Minseok is leaving, and all he manages to get out is a quick, strangled noise as Minseok hooks an arm around his waist and drags him back outside with him.

Kris groans softly, burying his face in his hands for a second. It's always nice to be embarrassed first thing in the morning. “That was subtle,” Joonmyun says. He still has sleep in his eyes, and the sweater that Jongdae gave up is brightly coloured and ridiculous, but somehow, he looks right at home in XO's kitchen.

“Welcome to my life,” Kris sighs. He jerks his head in the direction of the fridge. “Yixing made you something to eat before he and Lu Han headed out, go ahead and grab it.”

“Thanks.” Joonmyun rummages through the fridge and comes up with a couple of bowls, carrying them over to the table. Kris decidedly doesn't watch him. He has to admit, Minseok was right. He could use a break. He digs his fingers into his lower back, trying to work out some of the tension. Maybe, after this is all over, he'll be able to relax again. Relaxation, seems like a nice concept. He's got a dim recollection of that.

He looks up in surprise when Joonmyun moves to slide one of the bowls in front of him. “Nah, I already ate. Don't worry about it.” He pushes it back.

“Already working on a plan, huh?” Joonmyun says, chewing carefully. “Very diligent.”

It's so _weird_. Kris is so used to only seeing Joonmyun in one context: the clinic. He's used to his patient friendly sweaters and the flickering fluorescent lighting, and this is odd. Socked feet and borrowed pajamas, tired in a way that has nothing to do with hard work and everything to do with the crash after the rush of being chased and a late night.

“That's my job,” he points out. Joonmyun glances up at him, and Kris flushes a little. “How...are you?” Points for articulation, Wu.

Joonmyun mulls that one over. “I've been better,” he admits. “It would've been nice to be able to grab some of my stuff before we left.” He takes another bite. “But I'm alive, aren't I?” The smile he offers Kris is small, half-watt, but it's genuine. “And I've got you to thank for that.”

Kris feels a bit lost without something to occupy his hands. “It could be argued that I got you into that – ”

“No!” Joonmyun laughs and rolls his eyes. “We're not doing this again.”

“Alright.” Kris holds up his hands in defeat. “Alright, you win.” He quirks an eyebrow. _This time_. He still feels terrible about it, though.

Joonmyun glances around the room. “Nice place you've put together here.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“No, I mean it.” Joonmyun drops his chopsticks and leans forward, resting his chin in his hand. “It feels like a home. And, I mean, considering this is the Zones, you've done pretty well.”

Kris supposes, when he thinks about it, he hasn't done too badly. They haven't done badly, he corrects himself. Everything they have here, this foothold they've scraped out here in the dessert, they've done together. “We do okay for ourselves,” he agrees. “Even if it is kinda hard to find food.”

When Kris gestures at the now empty bowls, Joonmyun catches sight of his bandages and grabs his wrist. “Let me have a look,” he says, and Kris is more than amenable. Warmth spreads in his gut as Joonmyun turns his hand over in his, but Kris pushes it back down. He's trying to plan an attack on the corporation that runs the entire fucking city and save all of their lives. He needs to quit getting flustered by Joonmyun's touch. “Good,” Joonmyun says. “And your ribs?”

“They're _fine_ ,” Kris insists, but he still lets Joonmyun tug his shirt up for a look. “I'm more worried about Sehun, anyway.”

“Aren't you a bit young to be worrying so much?” Kris could point out how laughable that question is, considering that it's Joonmyun who's fussing over Kris right now, but he decides against it.

“Yeah,” Kris agrees. “Grey hair and everything.” He pulls mournfully at his bangs and frowns. It's half a joke, if he's honest. He could've sworn he found a grey hair the other day, fixing his hair after a shower. He supposes that it's a good thing he's busy. Doesn't give him a chance to dwell on these things.

Carefully, Joonmyun tidies away the dishes. “You know,” he says, carrying them over to the sink to clean. “You could just run, right? I mean, I heard there's still a couple cities holding up way up north. Better Living doesn't have power up there.” The dishes clink softly in the sink. “You've got the means. It wouldn't be that hard.”

Fair question. Kris leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “We could,” he agrees. They fought out an existence here, it wouldn't be difficult to pull it off again. But the idea just rubs Kris the wrong way. “It feels like letting BL/IND win.”

It takes Joonmyun a few tries to find the right cupboards to put the dishes away, but he doesn't ask Kris for help. Kris isn't sure what to make of that. “And you don't want that.” When he sits down next to Kris again, he folds one heel up underneath himself and looks at him, curious. “It's personal,” he says.

It's half a question, half a statement. Kris nods. “Yeah.”

When he doesn't offer anything else, Joonmyun tilts his head. “Can I ask?”

“I don't like to talk about it,” Kris says, but he has to admit that when it's Joonmyun asking, he's a little more amenable to talking. He's not used to someone not taking his hint and letting it go. Joonmyun watches him, patiently, and Kris realizes that he's _waiting_. After a second's hesitation, he decides just to tell him. It seems like the least he can do after dragging Joonmyun out of his life and taking everything from him. “My mom raised me by herself, and she got sick when I was a kid. Cancer. We couldn't afford the treatment, but the doctor at the hospital offered her something new for free. Wouldn't cure her, but it'd make her feel better. In the trial stages.”

Understanding crosses Joonmyun's face, and a flash of faint horror. “Little yellow pills,” he says quietly.

Kris nods. “I got to watch her waste away for two agonizing years. When I went back to the doctor for help, he laughed me out of the building.” Joonmyun's eyes find his, and Kris nods. _So, yeah, it's personal_. “And I'm not the only one with a story like that.”

Silence falls over the both of them, just a hair away from comfortable. Joonmyun doesn't move to console Kris, or hug him, and Kris is glad. That kind of thing has never sat well with him. “What can I do to help?” Joonmyun, sitting in his chair in his oversized sweater and messy hair, looks small and very determined.

Kris smiles wider than he has in way too long. “Maybe we can figure something out,” he says.

 

 

-

 

 

It takes almost a week of Kris and Minseok parking themselves in the kitchen, papers spread across the table top, but they finally knit together a plan that satisfies the both of them. When Kris looks up from his notes, he sees the same dark circles under Minseok's eyes that he's sure are under his, but the weary smile is familiar too. “You know,” Minseok says, his voice rough and tired. “We might just pull this one off.”

“Might?” Kris laughs. It gives him almost a rush, the realization that they've _done it_. They've figured it out, a way to hit BL/IND and hurt them the way that the company has hurt them. They just have to coordinate, get their shit together, but still. It feels good. It feels really good.

Minseok relents. “We will,” he says, and he grins, that real, wide grin with too much gum.

“Atta boy,” Kris says. Minseok throws a pen at his head.

Kris' next task is to get in contact with Videre again. They're slippery, he finds. Every time they meet, it's in a new location, each equally boring or unassuming, and yet somehow, Zhou Mi is at the door, charming smile on his face. It creates an odd deja vu. “Can I help you?” he asks politely. Kris only favours him with a raised eyebrow. Zhou Mi laughs. “Come on in.”

This time, it's not Kyungsoo and Baekhyun. They were wherever the heart of Videre was, preparing for XO's attack and the aftermath. Instead, Zhou Mi lead them to meet with one of the tiniest women that Kris has ever seen. “Did you have any trouble?” he asks.

Boa shakes her head. “Easy as anything,” she says, waving a hand. “No one suspected a thing. Sometimes, this height has its advantages. Very occasionally.” She hands him a couple of bags, and Kris throws one over his shoulder before passing the other to Joonmyun. He'd tried to dissuade Joonmyun from coming with him, saying they could spot him, but when Joonmyun had pointed out that he could say the same about Kris, that argument died fairly quickly.

“Thank you,” Joonmyun says sincerely. He opens up the backpack in his hands and rifles through it for a second before looking up at Kris and beaming. His grin makes Kris momentarily lose his train of thought, blinking back down at Joonmyun, dopey smile on his face. “This means a lot to me.”

“Of course,” Boa says, shrugging. “I was happy to help.”

“How's Chanyeol?” Joonmyun's next question is immediate, and his hand still, the worry stark on his face.

“He's fine,” she assures him. “They roughed him up a little, but they didn't bother with him. It was you they were looking for. He's a little bruised, but he's okay.” She chuckles. “He was glad to hear you're okay, too.”

Joonmyun visibly relaxes. “Oh, good,” he sighs.

“How are things coming along on your end?” Kris asks.

It's Zhou Mi who replies. “Everything's set with our guy on the inside. As long as you guys get there, he will get you in.”

“Good,” Kris says. “That's one less thing I've gotta be worrying about.”

Zhou Mi holds out a hand. “If all goes well, I won't see you again until you've conquered the big bad.” The smile he flashes is blinding. “I'd wish you luck, but I'm sure you won't need it.”

“Just in case?” Kris says, gripping his hand.

“Good luck,” Zhou Mi replies, indulgently.

In the car ride home, Joonmyun sits his bags on his lap, happily digging through them. “What's so important about that stuff?” Kris asks. The setting sun gleams on the worn hood of the car and makes him squint out at the road.

“This,” Joonmyun breathes, and he pulls something out.

It's an atrocity. Kris raises an eyebrow. “You wear that?” he asks, incredulous.

“It's my lucky sweater,” Joonmyun tells him. He frowns and swats at Kris' arm. “Less insulting my wardrobe, more eyes on the road.” Kris laughs.

 

-

 

Two weeks of solid preparation, and the day of the operation dawns nice and clear. Kris spends most of the morning wrapping up some final details, and collecting the things he'll need. He doesn't forget to call Amber, to tell her to keep her head down. He doesn't want to involve anyone he doesn't have to.

He's sitting at the table, polishing his zap one last time and checking the batteries when Yixing and Lu Han head out, dressed in BL/IND whites. It's important they get in before it all goes down. Their job: to infiltrate the building, set up camp in security, and find and rescue Jinri. “You guys have everything?” Kris asks. “You double-checked?”

“Duizhang,” Yixing says gently. “We didn't forget anything.”

Lu Han can see the way that Kris' lips tighten, and he knocks his knuckles against Kris' shoulder, smiling. “For real,” he says. “I didn't let the space cadet forget anything crucial. Trust us.”

Kris nods. It's not that he doesn't, really, it's that this is _so important_. He needs it to go right. They all do. “Good luck,” he says after a second.

Yixing and Lu Han both salute him in an eerily synchronized movement. “See you on the other side,” Lu Han says, and then they're out the door.

That's it, Kris thinks, idly turning his zap over in his hands. Plan in motion. They can't take it back now. It almost feels surreal.

“So when do you want me to head out?” Joonmyun asks from the doorway to the backroom. The jacket they'd found him, an old one Sehun had outgrown, looks completely incongruous over his ugly knit sweater.

It jolts Kris out of his revery, but he doesn't look away from the gun in his hands. “No,” he says. “I've said it before, you're staying here.” He makes sure to make it final, he'll brook no argument on this one. “You don't have any training, you don't know what to do with a zap. I can't be looking after you.” And he would, he knows. With the rest of them, even Jongdae on a good day, Kris can trust that they can look after themselves. Every one of them has spent years out here, dodging Dracs and fighting for everything they get. It's not that he thinks that Joonmyun's life was easy, but it probably involved a significantly smaller amount of hand to hand combat.

Joonmyun doesn't seem too inclined to accept that. Noisily, he drags out the chair across from Kris and sits down heavily. He's demanding Kris' attention, and Kris gives in and looks up. “I am the only one who knows how to patch up potentially mortal wounds, and you want me to stay at home and twiddle my thumbs.” He's angry, Kris realizes with a jolt. Frustrated and furious. He's never seen this hard edge to Joonmyun.

“I need you and Jongdae on the radio, the coordination is vital.”

“No,” Joonmyun shakes his head. “You need Jongdae on the radio. What happens if you get shot?” He narrows his eyes. “What if it's Zitao?”

It's a cutting blow, and Joonmyun knows it. Kris flinches and drops his zap and it clatters against the table. “That's not fair,” he says.

“It's not fair to leave me here, either,” Joonmyun says quietly. His face is a reflection of Kris' own worry and fear. Kris rubs at his eyes. “Let me help. Please.”

He's right, of course, but that doesn't mean that Kris can entirely push down his kneejerk reaction to say no, to make Joonmyun stay, to keep him _safe_. Joonmyun is so small and soft and Kris can't imagine what he'd do if anything happened to him. And he's the only one who could look after them, if it came to it.

“What if you get hurt?” Kris asks. “Who's gonna patch you up?”

“So, only you get to risk your lives? Better Living took everything from me, too, you know.” His eyes on Kris are steady, gentler. “I'm sleeping on a borrowed bed and living on scrounged up food, just like you. Why can't I take part?”

Kris runs a hand through his hair. “You're killing me here, doc.” He tries out a smile, and doesn't quite get there, but Joonmyun's eyes brighten. He knows he's won.

“Nurse,” Joonmyun corrects. “What if I promise not to get myself killed?” He reaches across the table for Kris' hand. His fingertips trace the bandages, like he's checking the splint, but in the end, his fingers end up curled between Kris'. “Pinky swear.”

Kris looks down at their hands and wonders, just for a second, about what's going to happen after all this. “Are you sure you're an adult?” Kris asks.

“Fairly certain.”

Kris takes a few seconds, Joonmyun's thumb brushing up against his, before he speaks. “We have a van,” he says. “Do you know how to drive?” Joonmyun nods. “Good, alright. You can take that. You stay parked outside the compound, and you do not make a fucking move unless we're screaming for help. You got me?” He points at Joonmyun with his free hand. “Dress like a civilian. Don't draw attention to yourself. Don't get shot.”

“Aye aye, duizhang,” Joonmyun says, a bit dryly.

“Yeah, listen to your duizhang.” Kris tightens his fingers in Joonmyun's, ignoring the twinge from his broken one. This had better not come back to bite him in the ass.

 

-

 

When Sehun and Jongin head off to do their part, first Jongin, then Sehun, let Kris manhandle them into hugs. Sehun is basically as tall as he is these days. When did that happen? Sehun and Jongin are acting as the distraction. Once Yixing and Lu Han are in place, the kids will barge into the main entrance and get as much attention as they possibly can. It's dangerous, but Kris knows they'll pull it off. “Cause some mayhem, boys,” he says. They're quiet and Jongin nods. Sehun hooks a a hand around Jongin's neck and drags him out.

“You next,” Kris tells Joonmyun. After a second's hesitation, he ducks into the back room and comes out with a zap. It's not customized like theirs are, just plain white, something he swiped off a Drac a couple of months back. “Just in case.” He holds it out and Joonmyun takes it gingerly. “They're easy. No real kick back like the old pistols. Safety is here, and just remember to keep an eye on the charge.”

Joonmyun doesn't thank him. He carefully tucks it into the back of his pants. “I hope I won't need it,” Joonmyun admits. He takes a second to pocket his hand radio and grab his first aid kit from the table.

“Me too.”

Minseok nudges the front door open with his elbow, his hands covered in grease. “Done,” he says. “Just needed a bit of a tune-up, anyway, it's been a while since we used it. You're good to go.”

“Good luck, hyung,” Zitao says, and Minseok echoes it, flashing Joonmyun a thumbs up.

“Be careful,” Kris says, tucking his hands in his pockets.

Joonmyun's smile is half-hearted. He squeezes Kris' elbow. “You too,” he says, and with a quick wave to them, he heads out.

Now, it's just them. The last to leave, and they play the biggest part. It's up to them to take advantage of Sehun and Jongin's advantage to get to the Exterminator and take him out. They have some time to kill, before Lu Han and Yixing are in place and Sehun and Jongin move in, and this is the worst part. Kris has nothing left to do, nothing to occupy his time. The car is stocked and ready to go, and so are Zitao and Minseok. All he has left to do is wait.

Despite himself, he ends up pacing, counting his footsteps as he walks from the table to the counter to the front door and back. “Duizhang,” Zitao says. “You're making me nervous.”

Minseok watches him with amusement. “I think he's trying to wear a groove in the floor.”

Kris does his best not to dwell on everything, on worrying about whether or not Yixing and Lu Han will get in the building, or if Sehun and Jongin will move too soon. He's especially not thinking about Joonmyun right now. “Sorry,” he says.

The conversation between them stutters and stops, and even Jongdae is silent today. When the clock finally ticks down and the sun is starting to set, he hands them their radios. “Break a leg,” he jokes weakly. “I'll be right here, whatever you need.”

Zitao hugs him, fiercely. It's hard not to feel the sense of finality with each departure. None of them are under any illusions, this is a make or break situation. They will make it happen or they won't come home.

“See you soon,” Minseok tells him, and then Kris is ushering them out the door.

As Minseok and Zitao head to the Impala, Kris pauses in the doorway. He's all out of reassuring things to say, but Jongdae seems to get it. He touches his fingertips to his eyebrow in a pale mockery of a salute. Kris returns it, then slips out, the door swinging shut behind him.

A long and silent drive ends with them parking half a block from BL/IND's main compound. Kris lifts his radio to his mouth. “Report.”

“Doorman, ears open,” Jongdae says.

“Stunner, Kid, in position.” Lu Han's reply is almost immediate. “Located kid sister, fingers on the trigger. This tech is nuts, but Doorman's gonna walk me through it. Got you covered, boss.”

“Good. Brawlers?”

Jongin sounds impatient, eager. “Say the word, boss man.”

Kris can hear someone fumbling with the radio, and then Sehun comes on the line. “Itching for it.”

“Hold,” Kris reminds them. Next to him, Minseok shakes his head and snorts. “Doc?”

The seconds before Joonmyun's reply are almost agonizing. “Here. In position. Not dead.”

“Thank god for small miracles.” There's laughter from everyone else on the line. “Last but not least, inside man?”

“Here.” The man's voice is light, almost sweet. “Ready when you are.” Across the street, Kris sees a small, slight man in a white jacket shift in a doorway. That must be their contact.

Kris exhales heavily, eyes flicking over to Minseok, who nods. “Time to go. Cue brawlers.”

“Showtime,” Sehun crows, and then they click off.

“Showtime,” Zitao echoes softly, tugging his mask over his eyes. Kris and Minseok follow his lead, and then the three of them casually climb out of the car and head to meet with their contact.

He's such a small man, all sharp features, and he gives them a tight smile as he holds out his hand. “Ryeowook,” he says. “Nice to meet you.”

Kris' hand basically swallows Ryeowook's. “Cuffs?” he asks.

“Got it covered.” He holds up one hand, three sets of handcuffs dangling from one finger. If this were any other situation, were Kris not so completely tense with worry about what they're about to do, he might have laughed.

It takes only a minute or two until all three of them have their hands cuffed behind their backs, tight enough to look legit, but loose enough to wiggle free when the time comes. Ryeowook leads them to a slick, polished BL/IND van, and helps them in. “Here we go,” he says cheerfully. Kris almost admires his positivity.

It's part of the plan, he knows, but that doesn't mean Kris likes the way the steel presses up against his wrists. Even when he knows he can escape them at any time, it still feels too close to the real thing. He fixes his eyes on the floor and only looks up when Zitao presses his face to his shoulder. It steadies him, at least a little.

He can tell they're getting close to the compound. The lights become all fluorescents, and Ryeowook's face hardens, degree by degree, until they've reached the front gate. Through the glass that divides the front seats from the back, Kris watches as Ryeowook slides the white mask down over his eyes. He doesn't say anything, just parks and climbs out. Kris nudges Zitao with his shoulder and Zitao straightens. “We've got this,” he tells Zitao softly, and across the van, Minseok nods in agreement. The words are as much for himself as it is for Zitao.

Ryeowook slams the door open noisily and grabs Zitao's collar, hauling him out of the van. He presses the barrel of his zap up to Zitao's temple. It's all a show, but it still makes Kris' stomach clench painfully and he grits his teeth. “Out, now,” Ryeowook barks at them. “Make a fucking move, I dare you. Give me an excuse to turn his brain into jelly.”

For such a little guy, he's got a surprising amount of menace. It makes a certain amount of sense, though. You don't get to be a Scarecrow by luck alone. Minseok scrambles out first, quickly followed by Kris. Ryeowook makes them go first, keeping a firm grip on Zitao as he marches them in through security. Kris has to make a conscious effort to remember that this is all a facade.

“Interrogation,” Ryeowook tells the guards at the door when he's asked, a slippery, malicious smile on his face, like he means something a lot worse, and he's going to enjoy this. When the men don't even blink, just glance at Ryeowook's pass and wave them on, Kris feels a little bit sick. He's never been in this building, and if that's par for the course, it just spurs him on. They need to be taken down.

Luckily, though, they're let through. The men don't even bother to pat them down or anything, which is a lucky stroke. Forward they march, down sleek, silver-walled hallways. Kris' heavy boots leave black streaks on the immaculate flooring, and there's a little part of him that's a little pleased with that.

An alarm sounds as Ryeowook leads them through increasingly empty hallways. The distorted voice summons all available units to the main entrance, and they exchange looks. Jongin and Sehun's distraction is in full force.

Ryeowook steers them into an empty room with frosted glass walls, and shuts the door behind them. “No cameras,” he explains as they slide off the cuffs. Kris rubs at his wrists. “I have to go,” Ryeowook says, looking apologetic. “I'm sorry, I just – ”

Kris shakes his head. “Nah, we get it. You did great, thank you.”

“Good luck,” Ryeowook says, sincerely. He straightens his jacket. “We're rooting for you.”

The door closes behind him silently. “I'd hope so,” Minseok says dryly.

Kris manages a bit of a laugh at that. Cuffs abandoned, he tugs out his radio again. “Stunner, come in.”

“I'm patched in, this is amazing. I can see everything from here, it's great.”

“I'm very happy for you. The Kid?”

“Picking up our package.”

Kris nods to himself. “How about our escape route?”

“Mapped out. Security doors locked down from the Exterminator's floor down through the side entrance, excluding, of course, your path now. You in place?”

Next to him, Minseok pulls out a pair of wicked brass knuckles. He's been saving them, Kris knows. With a flourish, Zitao produces the nunchaku he'd strapped to his back. He doesn't do anything so amateur as to play around with them, he knows them. He knows their weight, knows how they fit in his hand. He's got no need for that. “Yeah, we're set. Stay ready.”

“Yeah, boss.”

There's no point in touching base with the kids, those two would be occupied for a while. Joonmyun, either. It would just be too indulgent. He needs Jongdae, though. “Doorman.”

“Straight down this hall, you're gonna hit an elevator when you turn right. Three floors up.”

“Got it.”

He tucks the radio away and Minseok nods. He's the first one out the door, then Kris, and Zitao takes up the rear. They move fast, but don't run. No need to waste time or energy.

He doesn't like this place. It's sterile and cold, and even in an out of the way corner, it still feels pristine and untouched. “Now would be good, Stunner,” Kris says into the radio as they approach the elevator.

A few seconds' pause, then: “Done. Cameras off, all the way there.” Lu Han laughs. “I feel so powerful.”

“Congratulations,” Kris drawls.

Even Zitao is fidgety in the elevator. He drums his fingers against his thigh and Kris reaches out to still them. He hopes it's enough.

They reach the floor and but the door doesn't open. Instead, the control panel flashes and a tiny touch screen opens up. “Doorman.”

“Now this, this is the tricky bit. Exterminator's personal floor. His guards are all handpicked and a bunch of assholes, but there aren't many. Two separate stations, but the first one is part of the main system. I think I can walk Stunner through getting you through. The second one, shit, it's not. This wasn't on the schematics. You're gonna have to try to figure it out. I've got nothing on it.”

“The elevator door, Doorman.”

Jongdae laughs nervously. “Right. The code. It should be the one that our songbird friend passed on.”

Kris stares at the screen. He's been over the information Song Qian gave them a hundred times, he should know this. Just as the panic is starting to creep in, Minseok nudges him aside and keys it in. “Here we go,” he says. Kris nods his thanks.

Here we go.

The doors slide open, and Zitao is out like a flash. He races down the hallway, bypassing the nearest of the Scarecrows to aim straight for the ones manning the guard station. It's a tiny booth in the centre of a broad hallway, and broad sheets of thick glass stand on either side of it, blocking the way. Zitao moves gracefully, taking out a masked man with a kick to the head, and Kris smiles, just a little. He can't help but be proud.

But now isn't the time. There are three Scarecrows running towards the elevator, reaching for their zaps, and there's no way that he's going to let them get to them. Kris' run from the elevator is considerably less graceful, but it does the job. He chooses the man on the left, short but solidly built, and he throws himself at the Scarecrow bodily.

It doesn't fail him. The two of them go flying, and Kris holds nothing back. When they hit the ground, Kris lands on top of the Scarecrow and uses his weight to pin him down, hammering his fist into the man's stomach until he's gasping for air. He's aiming for incapacitation, but before he can get in a good blow and knock him out, the man knees him in the balls. Kris crumples immediately, curling in on himself and rolling to the side. Low blow. “Fuck,” he gasps, the pain making him almost nauseated.

The man takes advantage of Kris' incapacitation to go after him, fists and feet, no quarter. A kick to the jaw leaves his head spinning, the floor lurching underneath him. It all stops abruptly, and Kris blinks, groaning, trying hard to figure out exactly what happened, when the man drops to the floor next to him heavily. Confused, he looks up, and Zitao is looking down at him. “C'mon, duizhang,” he says. “You have to do better than that.” He helps Kris up again, but then he's gone, swinging at the next Scarecrow.

Kris shakes his head. That was a little too soon to let a guy knock him down. He takes a deep breath to focus, and it's a good thing too, because a woman leaps at him. She's had time to pull out her zap, and Kris has to dodge left, hard, knees hitting the ground with a crack. She shrieks and swings out at him, the barrel of her gun colliding with his head.

It sets sparks off behind his eyes, but it also tells him exactly where her arm is. He catches her wrist and wrenches it in the wrong direction, feeling the bones crunch under the press of his big hand. She drops it and it clatters to the ground and now, Kris feels, things are a little more equal.

He uses his grip on her arm to throw her forward, and she goes with the motion. She doesn't go easily, though, her knee catching him in the side of the head as she flips through the air and lands on her back. As she struggles to catch her breath, he brings down his elbow against her throat, hard. No mercy, he reminds himself. It's them or him. Watching her clutch at her chest and struggle for breath still makes him a little sick. A quick blow to the head and she relaxes, out cold.

When he looks up, Zitao is neatly dispatching a woman with long hair and Minseok is catching his breath. His knuckles are bloody and his hair is a mess. “You okay, duizhang?” He smirks, just a little.

Kris straightens, gingerly adjusting himself. “Shut up,” he says hoarsely.

Zitao is examining the glass wall, looking for the entrance, leaving sweaty fingerprints in his wake. On the other side is a handful of Scarecrows, zaps already drawn. This time, it won't be enough to leave it to their fists. “Nothing,” Zitao says, turning back to Kris and shrugging.

“Stunner?”

“This shit is complicated, hold on.” Kris sighs and tucks away the radio again, waiting. Not for the first time, he wishes that Jongdae could be in two places at once. He's the only one who's ever known what to do with technology. Lu Han manages, though, and he's grateful that he's there, watching over them from the security room.

It's uncomfortable, standing there while the Scarecrows watch them through the glass. It's only a matter of time before they decide to open the door themselves, and Kris would rather that they manage to make some progress forward, rather than backwards.

“Got it,” crackles triumphantly over the radio and suddenly, the glass panels are sliding away. Kris blinks away the last of the dizziness, draws his zap, and dashes forward.

Zitao, as always, is ahead of him. This time there are more, and Kris doesn't have the luxury of a one on one fight. The two men who run to meet him are nearly as tall as him, but thin, alike. Kris gets off a quick shot, lucky enough to catch one through the shoulder. It sends him stumbling backwards, the other one howling in dismay and levelling his gun at Kris' head.

Kris should feel guilty for using their emotional attachment against them, but it's us or them, he reminds himself. Their lives, or his. Desperation lends him strength, and a bit of speed to dodge the way that the second man throws himself forward, shooting wildly. A shot grazes his arm and he shouts, slapping a hand over the burn. The pain sets in after a second, racing down his shooting arm and making his grip weak. _Fuck_.

He doesn't have time to dwell. The Scarecrow goes after him like it's personal, all frantic fists and wide eyes behind his mask. His assault on Kris is furious, knocks Kris off his feet and sends him sprawling, and Kris is rapidly finding himself getting really sick of lying on his back while some jerk in a white suit pummelled his ribs.

Still, he's got his zap. And under the assault, he manages to get his shin up between the man's leg and push up, getting enough space between them to lift his arm. A second is all he needs to get the barrel of his gun pressed against the man's chin and pull the trigger.

The Scarecrow goes limp immediately, crushing Kris under his weight. He tries not to dwell on how easy it was, how fast the light went out in the man's eyes, and instead think about Jongin and Sehun, about Jongdae, back at base with his radios, and about Joonmyun. He has to remember why he's doing this.

It takes him a few seconds to wrestle out from underneath the man's body, and when he does, he comes face to face with the first man's zap. It's his advantage, though – the Scarecrow's arm shakes, and he grimaces, teeth clenched. No fight. Kris sidesteps the man and punches him, hard, right in the temple. He drops fast.

Kris is really starting to feel it now. His ears are ringing and his arm aches, but they seem to have managed the second round. He has to be thankful for the Exterminator's paranoia – only two Scarecrows wait behind the glass walls, and one looks startlingly familiar. Excellent.

“Mean Mug,” he calls and Zitao's at his elbow in a second. He's got a split lip, and blood running down his chin, but he looks cheerful.

“I'm okay,” he says, and Kris squeezes his hand.

He turns around. “Rocket Man?”

Minseok is already nodding, pushing bloody hair out of his face. “Been worse,” he says.

They're all a little battered, but they're here. That's the first step. “Doorman.”

There's a long pause. “I...don't know. The inner door is run on a completely independent system, Stunner can't get at it. Can you get into the booth?”

Kris eyes it. This is _not_ good. The glass looks as thick and impenetrable as the glass of the doors. “Doesn't look so good.”

He and Minseok exchange a look, and he's about to suggest that they make a go at it, when one of the figures behind the glass moves. She steps forward, makes eye contact with Kris, and crooks a finger.

Kris walks up close and watches as Song Qian mouths words to him. It takes him a few seconds to decipher it. _Do you have her?_

Good question. He pulls out his radio. “Kid. You there?”

“Hey, duizhang.”

“Status update.”

“Got the package.” Yixing sounds pleased with himself. As he should, Kris thinks.

He turns back to her and nods once.

She doesn't hesitate. In one fluid movement, she pivots and shoots the other Scarecrow in the head and he's down. She darts into the guard booth and presses a few buttons, and then the doors are sliding open. They don't exchange any words, just a nod, an understanding, and then she pushes past him and breaks into a run.

There's nothing in their way, now. A large metal door is set into the centre of the wall behind the second gate, and that has to be it. He looks back at Zitao and Minseok.

“Alright,” Minseok says. He stoops to grab a Scarecrow's zap and straightens, rolling his shoulders as he levels both at the door. “Let's get this done.”

They advance slowly. Kris' shoulders feel so tight they ache. This is it. Zitao pauses with his hand on the door handle and Kris raises his radio to his mouth one last time. “Stunner.”

“Here, boss.”

“I'm calling in Doc. I need you to clear his path.”

Lu Han pauses before he answers. “What about the escape route?”

“Look after him.” Kris' voice says finality, it says that this is not something that's open for interpretation.

“You know I will.” He clicks off.

Kris takes a deep breath. “Doc,” he says. “Get ready.”

Joonmyun's reply is fast. “Are you okay?”

Minseok watches him with steady eyes and he nods, slowly. He's always been in favour of being extra prepared, instead of caught short. “We might not be, soon.”

“I'll be there.” Joonmyun doesn't hesitate and there's something reassuring about that.

“Stunner's opening you some doors. Be careful.” Kris tucks away the radio, and when he's raised his gun again, Zitao twists the handle and drags it open.

Minseok is the first through the door, and he's back out in a heartbeat. Kris lets out a startled yell as he watches Minseok stumble backwards, the shoulder of an enormous man in his gut. When they hit the floor, Minseok's head hits the floor with a sickening crack, and Kris' stomach lurches. The big man spreads one enormous hand across Minseok's head, holding him in place as he hits him, again and again. Through his fingers, Kris can see Minseok's glassy eyes roll towards him. “Go,” he yells, voice rough.

Fuck. Kris squeezes his eyes shut and then opens them, looking at Zitao. The kid looks stricken. “Come on,” he says, and he hates himself for it. Zitao nods, and they both turn towards the Exterminator's office.

They don't even see it coming. The crack of zap fire sounds and Zitao gasps, eyes wide. When Zitao falls, that's the first time Kris snaps in the field. “Zitao!” He's nearly screaming. Instinct tells him to run to Zitao's side, but he fights it, swallows it down and instead turns to the only other man in the room.

He could be anyone. He looks like any other corporate type, his suit tailored to perfection, his hair immaculate, his teeth white. He has his zap pointed at Kris' head and his expression is so smug, so nonchalant, it's infuriating. Kris stands and stares at him, the blood rushing in his ears, and the man just stares back, casually, like he hasn't just shot a hole straight through one of the most important people in Kris' life.

This is the Exterminator? He looks so plain, middle-aged, his belly just starting to push out the front of his expensive shirt. This is the man who has made Kris' life hell. This is the man who took away his mother, put Zitao out on the streets, the man who has hunted them like rats, determined to put him down. Somehow, Kris expected someone more impressive. He's not even as tall as Kris, and his face is artificially smooth. He doesn't even look concerned about Kris' presence, and the way that he points his gun at Kris says less self defence and more malicious intent, and Kris grits his teeth.

He finds himself running at the man before he even realizes what he's doing. Kris doesn't want explanations. He doesn't want to listen to some piece of shit in a suit explain why BL/IND works for the greater good, why it's best this way, with the entire city in a state of drugged complacency. He doesn't give a fuck. Right now, he mostly wants to rip this man's eyes out and feed them to him.

His fury makes him dumb, but it doesn't make him slow. He sidesteps the man's inaccurate shots and catches him, hands around his neck. The two of them go tumbling over the desk, and Kris lands funny on the chair, turning his wrist. He feels something crunch and he yelps, falling backwards.

The Exterminator is spry for a business man. He rolls away from Kris, hands desperately feeling around for his zap, knocked out of his hand in the fall. Despite the nagging ache in his wrist, Kris is determined not to let him find it. With a growl, he's back on the man, his good hand digging into the soft flesh of his throat. He will carry this out. Everything they've done today, it will not be for nothing. He will make it mean something.

Even as the man's face starts to turn purple, he's still reaching around, and it seems like Kris is all out of luck. The Exterminator uses the barrel of his gun to push Kris up and off him. “Move,” the man commands, rubbing at his reddening throat, and Kris obeys, skirting around the desk, wary eyes fixed to the man's every move. “Congratulations.” His voice is hoarse, and Kris takes some small satisfaction in the fact that he'd done that. “You've managed to become the biggest pain in my ass. No small feat.”

Kris doesn't have time for this. His eyes slide around to where Zitao is sprawled out on the floor, unmoving. He feels numb. “What are you waiting for?” he asks, finally. “Get it over with.”

“Not yet.” Kris's throat works when the massive man drags Minseok into the room by the collar. He's limp, and he looks worked over. Kris closes his eyes. “First, I want you to suffer.”

The big man hoists Minseok up, and Kris can see the way he struggles to open his eyes. It's a wonder he has any teeth left at all, he looks like hell. Casually, the Exterminator points his zap at his head. “You took out a good number of my best,” he says. “I think that merits some recognition.” The fact that the man seems to associate recognition with suffering isn't lost on Kris.

“Duizhang?” _No_. Kris' eyes widen, but before he can get out a warning, the big man has dropped Minseok and spun around. As he leaves, Kris catches sight of his zap, lying abandoned by the front of the desk.

Joonmyun looks even tinier in the grip of the Exterminator's enormous goon. His eyes find Kris, and he looks as scared as Kris feels. Kris swallows hard, icy fear creeping down his spine, and all that he can think right now is a litany of _no, no, no, no_. “Enough,” Kris tells the Exterminator. He stares down the barrel of his gun, eyes wide and desperate. “ _Enough_.” He can't say he's ever been more terrified in his life. Death, violence, Kris can face all that. He's just not certain he can face being the cause of the suffering of the people he cares about most in life.

He watches the big man's hand close painfully hard around Joonmyun's shoulder and he yelps involuntarily, face screwed up in pain. This is too much. “Please!” he shouts, and the Exterminator rewards him with a boot to the jaw.

“No,” the man says, sounding bored. “I think I will be the judge of what's enough.” He tips his head and looks down at Kris almost clinically, and Kris stares back, doing his best to ignoring the way his heart is trying to rattle out of his chest and the choked off little cries that Joonmyun is making.

The Exterminator flicks his hand and without any warning, the big man's fist collides with Joonmyun's head. The second punch hits his ribs, and with the third comes a crunch that makes Kris want to throw up.

It's an effective distraction, though. Kris lunges forward, fingers closing around the barrel of the gun. He knows that the Exterminator still has him in his sights, but at this point, it doesn't matter. If he's got a chance, he's going to take it. He twists, shooting blindly, and his last desperate shot burns cleanly through the man's cheek and skull. The Exterminator has a second to look confused and then he sags, crumpling to the floor.

Kris' body is screaming at him, but he squirms around one more time. Before the massive man has a chance to react, he fires off three shots into his head and the man wobbles, toppling backwards.

The floor falls silent. The only thing Kris can hear is his own laboured breathing and at the desk, some kind of alarm keeps pinging. He drags himself backwards until he's leaning against the desk, broken wrist resting in his lap. He digs out his radio. “It's done,” he says finally. “Contact Videre.”

“You don't sound so good, duizhang,” Jongdae says. His voice is almost gentle. “What happened?”

Kris drops his head to rest against his knees. “Just get them.”

“Duizhang? Where's the rest – ” Kris turns off the radio and throws it across the room. He has a headache, vicious and persistent, right behind his eyes. Hands pressed against his eyes, Kris wonders how long he has before someone finds him and tries very hard not to cry.

 

-

 

Kris refuses to let Lu Han and Yixing come find them. He sends them out, along with Jinri, to check on Sehun and Jongin and meet up with Song Qian. After all that had happened today, he'd been worried about what they'd find, but it was good news.

“Duizhang,” Lu Han's voice crackles out of the hand radio still attached to Minseok's waist. “We've got them. They holed up in the receptionist's office and held them off.”

Kris can't deny the rush of relief that floods him. Carefully, he makes his way to Minseok's prone form and grabs the radio. “Get them out of here. Now.” He closes his eyes, his hands shaking. He's useless with first aid, he always has been. The one thing he remembers, though, is that zap shots cauterize as they go.

When Videre shows up, several very long minutes later, Kris has Zitao in his lap, hands pressed to the hole in his chest. A punctured lung, he thinks vaguely. He can't breathe.

Gentle hands pull Zitao away from Kris and he watches blankly as they place him on a stretcher and roll him away. If Kris had any energy to spare, he'd be impressed by the team that Kyungsoo and Baekhyun have assembled. Since Kris and his guys cleared out most of the Scarecrows and staff in the building, it was easy for Videre to stride in and take over. Their medics move quickly, brusque and efficient, and two even descend on him, checking out his wrist, now swollen, and flashing a bright light in his eyes. “No,” Kris mutters, pushing them away. “No.” It can wait.

Baekhyun finds him as the medics are helping him to his feet again. “You've done it,” he beams. He reaches out and shakes Kris' hand before Kris can stop him, his tight grip sending shockwaves of pain up from his broken finger. “This is incredible. Thanks to you, we have the opening we need to clean up Battery City. Thank you.”

It's easy for him to be pleased, Kris thinks. He didn't bear the brunt of the cost. He nods to Baekhyun. “You're welcome.”

Kyungsoo's shoes sound loud on the expensive tiled floor of the Exterminator's office. “We're going to start by dismantling the Scarecrow unit. We've got some of our best guys looking into ways of easing people off the pills.” His eyes are wide and he looks exhilarated. “And don't worry, we have friends in medical. Your guys will get the best.” He sees Kris shift, unimpressed, and he presses a reassuring hand to Kris' arm. “I mean it. I went to medical school with Joonmyun, I can vouch for every last one of them. They're safe in their hands.”

“Better be,” Kris says. It takes him a second to muster it up, but he manages a smile. He doesn't blame them for focusing on the bigger picture. The bodies on stretchers aren't _their_ friends. “Looks like you've got this under control. I hope you're ready for a whole city.”

His words make both of them pause, and he can almost see the enormity of it settle on their shoulders. Baekhyun looks thoughtful. “I think we are,” he says.

He leaves them there, in the Exterminator's office, talking excitedly about their plans. Every part of him aches, and it's not all physical. He doesn't want to think about how empty home will be right now.

 

-

 

It takes days before the ringing in Kris' ears goes away, and before the floor quits slipping away underneath his feet every fifth step. He spends most of that time curled up in bed, sleeping it off. Yixing comes to check up on him and force him to eat. After the past month, Kris feels worn thin, threadbare, at his breaking point. At least, he supposes, now he has a chance to breathe. That counts for something, right?

It takes a week before Minseok comes home from Videre's medical centre, his bruises turning from purple to a painful-looking yellow, a bandage still taped to his temple. Lu Han helps him out of the car, an arm around his waist, and Kris can hear him fussing even from outside the house. Amber is there to greet Minseok, standing at the door, one hand on her hip. “Good to see you didn't bite it,” she tells him, and Minseok shrugs off Lu Han's arm to walk to her. They hug so tightly it has to hurt Minseok, but he doesn't flinch, his face buried in Amber's throat. When he straightens again, his smile could light the room.

Another week, and they get to take Joonmyun and Zitao home, too. Kris waits at the van while Sehun and Jongin go in to get them. Zitao refuses the wheelchair, preferring to walk out, Jongin and Sehun on either side of him as he makes his careful way to the van. Just behind him, Chanyeol wheels Joonmyun out. He looks even paler than usual, his dark roots showing against his red hair, and dark circles under his eyes. “Hey,” Kris says.

“Hi,” Chanyeol says cheerfully. “I brought you something.” He bends nearly in half to say a quick goodbye to Joonmyun, wrapping his long arms around him in a tight hug. He straightens and waves to the rest of them, catching Kris' eye and then looking pointedly down at Joonmyun. He wiggles his eyebrows and then heads back into the med centre. Subtle.

“Hi,” Joonmyun says. There's the faint shadow of an old bruise on his temple. “Give me a hand?”

He's a bit unsteady when he stands, and Kris stabilizes him with a hand. He can't help but like the way that Joonmyun leans into him. Joonmyun glances up at him, and when he turns that brilliant, thousand watt smile on him, there's only one thing in Kris' mind. _Fuck it._ He tilts Joonmyun's head up and leans down, fitting his mouth to his.

Joonmyun stretches up on his tiptoes to press closer, and Kris holds him steady. He can feel Joonmyun smiling against his lips, and distantly, he's aware of Sehun and Jongin, laughing and groaning. He doesn't care. Joonmyun's mouth is warm and sweet and faintly stale, but he fits just right against him.

When he pulls away, Kris settles his hands on Joonmyun's waist. “If you give me a chance,” he says. “I promise you will be in significantly less life-threatening danger from now on.”

“You disgust me,” Sehun announces from the open van door.

“Deal,” Joonmyun says to Kris, and his fingers tighten in the fabric of Kris' shirt. Kris throws the kids a sidelong look before he bends down to kiss Joonmyun again, feeling him shake with laughter.

Might as well milk it, right? He grins down at Joonmyun as there's a chorus of groans from the van, and right now, he feels pretty good.


End file.
